Whole again Severus
by Leila B
Summary: When Laurel is sent to Hogwarts as an adult student, she is furious. Enter Dumbledore with a cunning plan, a witch with visions, a Werewolf in love and while all Laurel ever wanted was a nice guy, now she got Severus Snape ... COMPLETE.
1. Back to School

DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns all main characters and settings. Snape is not mine (I wish he was ...) But Laurel is mine and so is the plot.  
  
AN: Sometimes you just don't find the fic you want to read and have to write your own. Please note: English is not my first language (not even my second). So if some of the grammar sounds German, forgive me. Writing fics is much better than doing boring translations of essays.  
  
Rating: R - for what is about to happen.  
  
PS: Thanks for the reviews!  
  
  
  
WHOLE AGAIN  
  
1. Back to School  
  
Laurel Hunter shook her head vigorously. "You can't be serious. I am not walking into a solid brick wall!"  
  
Phillip Wineberry sighed. What had he done to deserve this? Couldn't anybody else be in charge of those annoying mature students they were taking on this term in Hogwarts?  
  
"Miss, I told you all about it," he ventured with a hurt expression. "It has been done before. Thousands of times in fact. Nobody has ever been hurt."  
  
Not exactly the truth since he remembered the time when he himself as a second year student had crashed into some other student's trolley on the other side of the wall and broken his nose. But still. There was no other way to gate 9 3/4.  
  
Laurel let her shoulders slump. She still felt angry, confused and a little scared. A mere week ago she had been nothing but one of the hundreds of scholars, sitting in the dusty vaults of the National Library. Research work wasn't well paid but it suited her, especially then. Jack, her fiancée of more than three years, had suddenly decided that he was not ready for a commitment. One of her friends, who was an accomplished author of historical novels, needed some research done in England and had offered her the job. So she had taken the easy way out and packed her packs without much notice to any friends or relatives.  
  
Now, seven days later, she stood between platform 9 and 10, and this man, who insisted in treating her like some not so clever child, urged her to walk into the wall in front of her. Her trolley was packed with things she didn't recognise and were certainly not hers. An old-fashioned trunk with brass corners, some paper-wrapped parcel that looked like a cauldron. Lord, they had even tried to hand her a toad when she was picked up at the guesthouse of the Ministry that very morning.  
  
"Guesthouse, my ass," she thought. She had not felt like a guest there, more like a prisoner.  
  
She had begged, even cried but they wouldn't let her go. She had demanded to see a lawyer or someone from her embassy, but of no avail.  
  
Wineberry nervously fingered the silver watch he kept on a chain in his breast pocket. "You'll be late. There is only this train and if you miss it, you will have to return to our guesthouse and stay there until next term."  
  
That did it. The thought of spending months in that spooky house surrounded by walls and guarded by mean looking thugs was more than Laurel could take. She gripped the handles of the trolley, pushed off - and stood suddenly on the other side. The platform was packed with children, teenagers, their fussing mothers and their luggage. Somebody helped her to hoist her trunk on the train, somebody pushed her into an empty compartment, and before she could think, the train had left London and rolled through the countryside.  
  
Laurel closed her eyes. All this madness just because of that freaking computer incident! OK, calling it an 'incident' might be playing it down. All she could remember was that she had thought about Jack and felt this huge wave of anger and sadness sweep over her. And the computer in front of her exploded. Then the next one and so on until all the units in the room were reduced to fuming sparkling heaps of molten plastic and fried wires. After that everything was lost in a haze. Somebody had taken her to an office, and while she had tried to find an explanation - after all, she had done nothing to make them blow up, had she? - somebody had placed a phone call. The next days she spent in the guesthouse, under constant surveillance. Friendly doctors had asked her questions and not so friendly men in dark suits had asked her more questions until she became irritated and tired - and until the neat stack of paper on one of the desks caught fire.  
  
The screeching of the compartment door woke her. A woman with grey hair ruthlessly forced back into a tight bun stood there. Laurel held her breath. She knew that woman, had seen her walk out of the ministry.  
  
The woman smiled and her smile lit up the solemn face. "There you are, Laurel. The children told me that the new teacher for DADA was sitting all alone in the last compartment. But since we don't have a replacement for that position yet, I figured they were referring to you."  
  
"I am sorry?" Laurel asked confused. "Who are you? How do you know my name?"  
  
"In a moment, my dear, in a moment. Let me get the others." The woman turned around and ushered a man and another woman into the compartment. It took a few moments until everybody had found a seat which gave Laurel the opportunity to check them out. The man was rather handsome, in his early twenties, with freckled skin and very fair hair. He wore a grey suit and paisley tie and looked like a teaching assistant on his first day on the job. The woman next to him was startling. Not only had she the most beautiful red hair Laurel had ever seen, but her green eyes and matching robe gave her an air of mystery. Suddenly Laurel felt underdressed with her everyday outfit of jeans and shirt.  
  
The older woman took the seat next to Laurel and shook her head exasperatedly. "Finally! Every year it gets worse!" She smiled at the three people who watched her eagerly. "Well, well. It's lovely to have all three of you together. Saves me some breath. I am Professor Minerva McGonagall. I teach Transfiguration at Hogwarts. Since this is our first course for mature students at Hogwarts, we will have to take things as they come. As time passes everything will fall into place. Why don't you introduce yourself to your classmates?" She looked at the young man who turned a bright red.  
  
"My name is Ben Olsen. I am from Sweden. There is some wizard blood in my family but for the last three generations it seemed we had turned Muggle after all. As a child there was no indication that I posses any unusual talents. But then it became obvious I could …" He bit his lip. "I read minds." Laurel starred at him and he smiled back rather sheepishly. "I try not to do it. It is exhausting and very embarrassing most of the time."  
  
"Well, I always knew I was a witch," the red-haired woman brushed his excuses away. "But since I grew up in the States with utterly ignorant parents nobody ever cared to give me an education. All I know I had to teach myself from books. I applied for this course three years ago!"  
  
Professor McGonagall pursed her lips. "Now, I think your fellow students would be interested not only in your merits but also in your name, my dear!"  
  
"It's Sally Kennedy but I prefer Serene."  
  
The older woman nodded. "Sometimes our given name does not describe who we are. But sometimes chosen names can mislead as well." She turned to Laurel. "What is your given name, my dear?"  
  
Laurel swallowed. How in all the world had she got amidst this bunch of lunatics? "My name is Laurel. I am not a witch nor do I know of any witches in my family. And I certainly did not apply to go to that place, Hogwarts."  
  
Serene frowned. "Then why are you here? Your place should be taken by a gifted student."  
  
Professor McGonagall raised a hand. "Contrary to Miss Hunter's belief she is as gifted as anybody present." She turned her warm eyes to Laurel. "I know you feel abducted and forced, my dear. Anybody in your position would feel the same. I have to admit that I am responsible for your rushed placement at Hogwarts."  
  
"You? I saw you at the ministry but ..." Laurel managed.  
  
"They called me in as soon as they took notice of the incident at the National Library. I watched them test you and yes, I also saw the little bonfire you set on Dr. Rencewind's desk."  
  
Now it was Laurel's turn to be embarrassed. "I didn't mean to."  
  
Ben smiled and nodded sympathetically.  
  
Professor McGonagall patted her hand. "I know. But something deep inside of you meant to. It has been there all the time, Laurel, and now it wants out."  
  
"But I am normal! Don't you see? All this is some awful misunderstanding. I never had anything to do with magic. I don't even like magicians!"  
  
"Well, who does?" sneered Serene. "Petty impostors that they are."  
  
"I like them," Ben ventured.  
  
"Enough!" Professor McGonagall dug a small notebook out of the depths of her purse. "Laurel, do you remember the summer you spent at your grandparents house in Italy? You were four then, weren't you?"  
  
She nodded in surprise.  
  
"There was an accident then."  
  
Laurel remembered all too clearly. "A car went straight into a tree, the driver died at the site. Yes. How come you know about that?"  
  
McGonagall studied her notes. "A witness saw you playing on the road. She swears that you had no chance to get away from the car in time. Yet you did. This woman reported - and I quote - 'the little girl stood in the middle of the road and suddenly right before the car would hit her, she stood in a field some hundred meters away.'"  
  
"I can't explain, I really don't," stuttered Laurel. She remembered the sudden feeling of disintegration very clearly. "I have no explanation."  
  
"It is our fault." McGonagall closed the book. "Every once in a while a child is born out of pure muggle stock who nonetheless bears the gift. In the old times we had a network all over Europe. Children like you would be found out and offered an education. But when you were a child things turned bad. Real bad. We had other problems than stray little wizards being left without proper schooling. Or so we did. Some still found their way to Hogwarts, but some found a different way. Straight into the Dark." She shuddered involuntarily. "This course is the first ever. If it turns out successfully I expect many will follow. You all will train your talents and became responsible wizards and witches."  
  
Her students sat silent, all in awe.  
  
Laurel was the first to speak. "When can I go home?"  
  
"What's wrong with you?" Serene didn't trust her ears. Oh, she had fought for this opportunity. She had studied hard. She would have done almost everything to be admitted to Hogwarts while this whining woman with her plain brown hair and her ridiculous sweater-shirt-jeans uniform begged to be sent home! "This is the best that ever happened to me!"  
  
Laurel shot her a vile glance. "Listen, I am not interested in being a witch. I have a perfectly fine degree in History, I don't want another one in Magic. I had a life. I want it back."  
  
Professor McGonagall smiled. "Don't we all, dear? Don't we all."  
  
* * *  
  
The mature students entered the hall amidst the first years. Reluctantly fascinated Laurel watched how the Sorting Hat placed the kids in their respective houses. She saw McGonagall at the High Table, discussing with a kind looking old man who had been introduced as Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of the school.. When all the kids were placed, the old man rose.  
  
"Welcome to your houses! Since this is the first time we have mature students here in Hogwarts, nobody really has an idea where the Hat will place them. I propose you step forward and just take your chance."  
  
"Miss Hunter." Professor McGonagall called out her name.  
  
Laurel took a seat on the stool and let the older woman place the Hat on her head. Hundreds of students watched her. Embarrassed she clenched her fists when the Hat began to grumble and guess. "What is this? Oh, so you are definitely not a child anymore, ha? Let us see, let us see then. Not Slytherin, no definitely not."  
  
Laurel didn't know whether his diagnosis was something to be glad about. But a quick glance at McGonagall told her that it probably was. The hat went on. "Not Ravenclaw. Not Hufflepuff either. Too old for Gryffindor, sorry 'bout that. It is all there - and not enough. Your own house then!" he decided.  
  
Albus Dumbledore nodded. "Just as well. The mature students will form their own house and will join classes according to their abilities. At mealtimes they may sit where they please but for now I suggest Gryffindor."  
  
"Wow." Ben wiped his brow. "That was spooky."  
  
"No, that was unfair," snapped Serene. "Just because that filthy hat can't place her, we are not allowed to be in one of the traditional houses either."  
  
"Where would you go if you had a choice?" asked Ben when they took their places at the Gryffindor table.  
  
"Slytherin of course." She looked at him with distaste. "Don't you know anything at all? Slytherin is by all means the best house here. I read all about it. They are smart, they are powerful."  
  
"And they have to live with Professor Snape. A fate worse than death," piped a voice to Laurel's right. She turned away from Serene's angry face.  
  
"Is that so? Who are you and who is that Professor Snape?"  
  
The girl smiled. "I am Hermione Granger. Professor Snape sits on the High Table to the very left. Don't stare at him," she warned. "He hates it if somebody does." But it was already too late.  
  
Laurel felt her gaze melt into the deep dark eyes of the man at the high table. He was tall, his black hair greasy, his robe even darker than his hair. If not for the sallow face, he would have been nothing but a shadow. She tried to look away, she really did, but something held her captive. Her skin started to crawl and her throat became dry. Then all of a sudden he let go and turned to the man next to him. Shaken, Laurel lowered her gaze to the plate. Hermione patted her arm. "Told you so."  
  
The boy next to Hermione held his hand out to Laurel. "I am Harry, and this is Ron. We are all third year. Don't let Snape scare you. Once he has sorted you out as a victim he can be a really nasty bastard."  
  
"In what way?" asked Ben concerned.  
  
"He picks on weaker students. Takes points away for everything. Favours his own brood, the Slytherins."  
  
Serene lifted her head. "So he is Head of Slytherin?"  
  
Rob nodded solemnly. "They deserve each other."  
  
Hermione turned to Laurel. "Are you really students? With grades and all? You are rather …" She blushed.  
  
"Rather old." Laurel finished the sentence for her. "I guess, for you thirty must be ancient."  
  
"Snape is at least 36! And Dumbledore must be a hundred! "Harry tried to be polite. "And I suppose it is not your fault that you are a beginner at that age."  
  
Serene shot him a venomous glance. "I am not thirty by far! And I am not a beginner. Do you understand?"  
  
Before he could answer, McGonagall clapped her hands and sent the students off to their dormitories.  
  
The three mature students were led through the maze of stairs and corridors by a seventh year who did nothing to hide his fascination with Serene.  
  
"This will be your quarters for the winter term," the young Ravenclaw announced. "Will you be in our class tomorrow?"  
  
Ben shrugged. "We will be where they tell us to be, I assume."  
  
Serene shook her glorious red mane. "You didn't pay attention, Ben. Not a good start. McGonagall just told me we should join the Gryffindor kids in potions tomorrow first hour."  
  
"Potions?" The boy pursed his lips. "Sorry about that. But once you survived Snape everything else can only be an improvement."  
  
* * * 


	2. Potions Class

2. Potions Class  
  
Laurel remembered these gloomy words when she sat in the potions classroom the next morning. She had slept astonishingly well considering that this was an old building with unknown sounds. But then - had she ever had a bedroom with a working fireplace in it? This was so much better than central heating. On the other hand she didn't care much for her roommate. Serene had taken over in a matter of minutes, had crammed the one chest with her clothes and robes and the small board next to the mirror with dozens of little bottles and jars. But for the time being they would have to get along. Laurel was afraid it would take more than a few days to convince these strange people that she was not supposed to be in this school after all. Then she would leave and Serene could have the room for herself .  
  
She took a quick look around her and was glad to be with the Gryffindor kids again. She liked them well, especially Hermione and her two friends. Rob winked and smiled, but when the door suddenly flew open, his smile vanished.  
  
Professor Snape appeared in front of the class while they all turned their head to the door. Laurel was sure that he had not done this by magic but was just really good in sneaking up on people. Again he was all dressed in black, save for a glimpse of white shirt-collar under his robe. His eyes were even darker than last evening. He looked straight above her head.  
  
"As I know from years of experience you all will have emptied you brains over the summer and most of you will have forgotten even the basic rules of concoction. Therefore we will use this hour for repetition."  
  
Laurel looked around her. All the little heads were bent over their pads. Nobody dared to giggle or whisper while Snape went through the basic rules. His voice was much more pleasant than his appearance. She didn't dare to look at him. She still felt uneasy when she remembered the compelling force of his stare. But the voice was a powerful instrument as well. When he suddenly fell silent she felt like waking from a daydream. She looked up and Snape stood right in front of her desk and pointed at her blank notepad.  
  
"So, Miss Hunter, I assume you already know it all since you don't feel the need to take any notes?"  
  
She blushed and felt her anger rise at the same moment. She was not a schoolgirl anymore, and this creep had no right to pick on her, had he?  
  
He didn't even wait for an explanation or excuse but dismissed the class, not without warning that the next time they would be expected to have read chapter 1 and 2 of their potions book.  
  
Hermione, Harry and Rob waited for Laurel as she left the classroom. Serene and Ben stayed and pestered Snape with questions. Hermione looked at her pitifully. "That was fast. Usually he doesn't get really ugly in the first week of term."  
  
"I didn't do anything." Laurel stamped her foot and couldn't believe she did. This was like a time warp back into fifth grade!  
  
"He has seen us together," Harry mused. "That is enough to set him against you."  
  
"Face it, he hates us," Ron sighed. "For being Harry's friends, for being in Gryffindor …"  
  
"And for loitering when you should be on your way to class," an icy voice finished the sentence. The four turned around self-consciously. Snape stood right behind them, Serene and Ben at his side. Serene grinned maliciously and Ben shook his head unbelievingly. Laurel pressed her lips together.  
  
"Five points each. That will be 15 from Gryffindor and it isn't even lunchtime. Well done. As for you, Miss Hunter …"  
  
"It's Ms. Hunter and since I don't belong to any of the houses you won't be able to take away any points."  
  
She held her head high and looked him straight in the eye. Again she felt the power but this time she was prepared and it seemed to be him who couldn't turn away easily.  
  
"Is that so?" he snapped. "But that fact won't save you from detention, Ms. Hunter. Tonight at seven, this classroom." He turned in a flourish of robes and went back into the room.  
  
"Poor Laurel!" Serene's voice dripped with false pity. "It seems you made a powerful enemy and it is only the first day. Another week and you will have yourself expelled from Hogwarts. But you didn't want to come here in the first place anyway." She marched off, an unhappy looking Ben in her wake.  
  
* * *  
  
At seven that evening Laurel opened the door to the potions classroom and took a moment to watch Snape bent over some scrolls.  
  
"Detention will be held in the classroom and not in the corridor, Miss Hunter." He seemed determined not to remember the Ms. "Come on in, close the door."  
  
She went straight to his desk.  
  
"Sit down."  
  
She remained standing.  
  
Exasperated he blew out his breath and rose his head. "I assume you considered not showing up at all?"  
  
She nodded solemnly. A muscle in the corner of his mouth twitched. "What made you change your mind?"  
  
"I wanted to have a word with you in private, Professor."  
  
"In private? And could there be a better place than the dungeons?"  
  
"Save your sarcasm, will you?" That silenced him for a moment.  
  
"What you did to those children today was cruel and unnecessary. What kind of school is this? They are only kids! They need to play, to make friends."  
  
"They need to study!" he thundered. "How are they going to get along in the muggle world if all they think about is friendships and Quidditch and other nonsense?"  
  
Laurel rolled her eyes in disbelief. "And to imagine that you were once a child and probably a student here! Have you never felt alone? Have you never been homesick?"  
  
As she spoke his face changed into an icy mask. His eyes shot furious bolts into hers. Without knowing it, she took one step back.  
  
For almost a minute he remained silent. And when he found words, his voice had gone as cold as his glance. "Lonely? Every day. Homesick? Never."  
  
"Well, you probably just don't remember. They tried to be friendly with me, to make me feel welcome."  
  
"Ah, now we are getting there! You feel responsible for their sentence and you want me to take it back. Is that so?" His face had turned from bitter to smug in a heartbeat.  
  
Laurel sat down on one of the desks. She wanted to get away from him, he made her positively uneasy standing so close. "Maybe you are right."  
  
"I have a reputation to care for, Miss Hunter. Taking back a reprimand - what would my students think of me?"  
  
"That you are only human, maybe?"  
  
Now he laughed. Not his usual cynical sneer but a wholehearted laughter. When he finally caught his breath, he sat on the desk opposite to her. "Letting these little beasts know that I am human would be the first step on the straight road to hell."  
  
He shook his head. "No matter what you think about me - and I don't give a toad about it, really - but I care about my students. I may not be the friendliest person …"  
  
Now it was her turn to laugh and he took it patiently.  
  
"They fear me - which means they study hard so they can keep me at bay. Which at last brings me to the reason of your detention, Miss Hunter."  
  
Laurel braced her arms.  
  
"We never had mature students at Hogwarts but it seems to me that your kind should pay special attention in class. After all you have to recover some lost ground."  
  
She hopped off the desk and began to pace through the classroom. "I don't know about 'my kind'. I didn't ask to come here," she muttered annoyed. "They kidnapped me and sent me to this ridiculous place and I have no intention to get involved in whatever it is you think you do!"  
  
"You don't?" His voice had gone soft but even more threatening. "Then let me tell you one thing, Miss Hunter. People like you are a danger to society. Hogwarts is there for a reason." He suddenly stood right in front of her and only then she recognised that he was almost a head taller than her which left her starring at his sensuous mouth. "I don't buy that nonsense about pure blood and mud blood. People come to Hogwarts not because their parents and grandparents were wizards but for their talent. I believe in talent. But magic is a strong power and power needs control."  
  
He pointed at a cauldron on a hook over the fireplace. Something greenish simmered and bubbled. "This potion will heat up and finally explode if I don't turn the heat down. You are the only one that can control the power in you and you better learn how to do so before you hurt anybody."  
  
"I don't want to be a witch!" she cried out and stepped back. "I don't want to make things explode and poison people and turn them into frogs and stuff. I want my normal life back. My future."  
  
"Your future."  
  
His emotionless voice made it only worse.  
  
"My future. A career as a writer. A family. Kids. A house by the sea. A damned white picket fence!"  
  
"I see. Though I can not imagine why anybody would want those things, you can still have them as a witch. So let me ask you: Is there anybody you love?"  
  
She stared at him. How had they come that far? What on earth was she doing opening her heart to that … that nasty cruel bastard?  
  
"Of course there is!" She thought about her parents, her sister and brother- in-law and their kids. Her grandparents. Samantha, her best friend and room mate back home. Of course there were people she loved.  
  
Snape set a leather-bound volume right on the desk next to her. Dust rose in the dim air. His voice had gone threatening again. "Then, Miss Hunter, I suggest you study very very hard so you don't blow him up one day!"  
  
* * *  
  
The next day she skipped lunch and found an empty dungeon. She didn't need any spectators when she first tried the skills she had learned that morning together with a class of first year Hufflepuffs. Levitation. Professor Flitwick made it look so easy. Just wave that wand, mutter the right words and - voila - the feather will rise.  
  
At least it rose when he did it.  
  
But now the feather lay like a piece of lead in the middle of the shady room and didn't give an inch, no matter how she moved that silly wand. She bit her lip. Of course she could go and ask Hermione for help or worse, ask Serene. But she was not ready to give up yet. She tried again and felt anger rise. Stupid feather, stupid wand, stupid idea to try to be a witch!  
  
Anger flamed and so did the wand. A fireball ricocheted through the room and Laurel flung herself to the floor and covered her head with both hands.  
  
"Annoying little habit of yours."  
  
Suddenly she recognised Snape leaning against the wall in the shadows. His outstretched hand held the fireball in balance. "You can't set the world on fire whenever it doesn't obey your orders." He caught the fireball, crumbled it in his fist and blew away the embers. "As seductive the idea may seem at times."  
  
"I can't do this," she stated flatly. He didn't help her to get up and she was even thankful for that. Her self-esteem had suffered enough for today. "I simply can't. They made a mistake. I am not a witch."  
  
"The Ministry doesn't make mistakes in that matter, believe me." He picked up her wand. "Nobody said it would be easy. There is a reason why students come here very young. It takes years of training."  
  
She shook her head. "I did everything Professor Flitwick told us. The right movements, the right words. Still didn't work."  
  
When she reached out for the wand, he threw it away into the back of the room.  
  
"The power is not in the wand. It is here." He touched her forehead, only lightly but she felt a tickling sensation. He must have felt it too, since he pulled his hand back as if it had touched a red-hot cauldron. "The wand is just a piece of wood. It is supposed to help you concentrate, to focus your mind."  
  
"And the spell?"  
  
"The words are important to decide what exactly it is you want. Words shape the world. Try it."  
  
Laurel stared at him, then shrugged. She turned towards the feather and said the spell again. A moment later she felt how she lost contact to the floor. Everything in the room started to slowly take off towards the high ceiling. Everything - but the dammed feather!  
  
Snape's hand grabbed the leg of her jeans and pulled her back down.  
  
"Is this really what you had in mind?" His face was impossible to read.  
  
"No." She couldn't suppress a giggle. "Not really."  
  
"Then concentrate for Merlin's sake!" He sounded grim. "Next time it could be me on the ceiling and I really don't care for that. I am scared of heights."  
  
Laurel took a deep breath and banned everything, even Snape's disturbing presence from her mind. Nothing existed but the feather and her wish to see it rise.  
  
And then it did.  
  
It rose gracefully from the floor, hovered over Laurel's hand and landed softly in her open palm. She looked at it with wonderment. She had done it.  
  
"It worked! Did you see me? I could let it fly!" she exclaimed and turned around to where Snape had stood a minute ago. But he was gone.  
  
* * *  
  
Dumbledore passed a bowl of cabbage across the table. "So everybody seems to have settled in," he remarked after taking a good look around the hall. The students chattered, laughed, ate and generally had a good time. After the first week it was always a relief to see things going back to normal.  
  
"Now, tell me, Professor McGonagall, what do you think about our new students?" He nodded towards Ben, Serene and Laurel, who had been told to sit the next week with Ravenclaw.  
  
Minerva McGonagall rubbed the tip of her nose. It itched which usually meant trouble. "I am surprised how well they get on. After all it can't be easy to start school at their age. On the other hand, Ben and Serene have always been aware that something was … different. They had time to get used to the thought. Laurel on the other hand - in the first few days I was afraid she might stay in denial. She seemed shell-shocked. Was it really necessary to abduct her like this and push her into wizardry without a warning?"  
  
Dumbledore cast a worried look at the young woman talking to the Ravenclaw prefect. "Believe me, it was. There was not only the danger for innocents involved. After all she let a computer explode with dozens of people around."  
  
"I thought it was a whole series of computers?" Snape raised his eyebrows.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Actually all the units in the National Library blew up that day. But while everybody tried to explain the computer incident, another fire broke out. The vault where Miss Hunter was supposed to work at that time was completely destroyed. The door was locked - but there has never been a key for that door. The ministry investigated and it seems to have been locked by a spell."  
  
"You try to say - had she been down there she would have died in the fire?" Snape asked, his voice curiously strained.  
  
"I assume that was the whole idea."  
  
"In her file a few other unlikely incidents are mentioned," Minerva recalled and dug her glasses and notebook out of her purse. "A sudden storm when she went skiing, an avalanche burying the chalet she was staying. Freak hail storms."  
  
"The Ministry found that reason enough to send her to Hogwarts. Not just to educate her but to keep her save."  
  
"I see." Minerva nodded solemnly. "However, she is gifted and lately she was willing to learn. And though I am loath to admit it, Professor Snape seems to be responsible for that."  
  
Now it was Dumbledore's turn to raise a bushy brow. "Severus? I hear you have been giving private lessons lately?"  
  
"You shouldn't believe every nasty rumour about me, Professor Dumbledore."  
  
Snape's gaze was venomous enough to kill. Minerva hastily muttered a mild protective spell, you never knew with Snape after all.  
  
"Well, well. So tell me what you think about the mature students class?"  
  
Snape turned his head away from Minerva and looked at the students. "Olsen seems to be very intelligent, a cool rational mind. Much like a silver dagger. He gets along fine with everyone, but keeps to himself most of the time."  
  
"He has the ability to read the unprotected mind."  
  
"What an unpleasant gift!" Snape sneered. "Who would want to know what everyone and his familiar was thinking? But still, he is a disciplined and eager student. Miss Kennedy at the other hand, is ambitious. You feel her hunger for … power. Very shrewd also. Like a poisoned arrow. Would have made a good Slytherin had she been sent to Hogwarts in time."  
  
"You bet!" Minerva coughed. "And what about Miss Hunter? I take it she is not as ambitious as Miss Kennedy?"  
  
Snape remained silent. When a minute passed and he had still not said a word, Dumbledore whacked him in the ribs with his pointy elbow. "Severus? Are you spellbound? Or have you fallen asleep?"  
  
Snape sat up straight. What was the matter with him lately? "She is … warm."  
  
"She is what?" Dumbledore asked astonished.  
  
"Warm."  
  
"You mean, warm like a smouldering fire? I just love the colourful way you Slytherins describe people," Minerva couldn't resist.  
  
Snape looked her straight in the eye and what she saw in his face - confusion, anger, pain - silenced her promptly.  
  
"She is warmer than everybody I ever met," was all he said.  
  
Dumbledore laid his hand in a warning gesture over Minerva's. "Enough now. Let us eat and hope that there will be many evenings a peaceful as this.  
  
* * * 


	3. Forbidden

3. Forbidden  
  
As the weeks passed a routine settled in. Classes, lectures, time out on the Quidditch grounds. Laurel had to agree with Serene that there was a certain fascination in most of the stuff they had to learn. Many evenings she found herself up late, unable to close the book she read. And every day she learned incredible things. According to their knowledge and abilities the mature students were split up and attended various classes.  
  
There was a village nearby and the older students were allowed to go there on Saturdays and do some shopping.  
  
This was the only thing all week long Serene and Laurel did together. It was nice to be with young people but serious shopping had to be done with somebody of the same age group.  
  
Serene tried a velvet robe in deep blue and turned self-consciously. "I look fat in this, don't I."  
  
Laurel rolled her eyes. They had spent almost two hours in this shop and she was dying for something to drink. "No, you don't. Buy it."  
  
Serene took another look in the mirror. The mirror smiled and applauded as she took a full turn and made the skirt swirl.  
  
"I'll take it then."  
  
They left and settled at a table in front of the pub. Two mugs appeared right in front of them, and they enjoyed the last rays of autumn sun.  
  
"Are you still longing to get expelled?" Serene asked and eyed a pretty seventh year from Ravenclaw.  
  
Laurel shrugged. "I don't know. This place is so weird. I am not like you. I didn't dream about coming here since I was seven."  
  
Serene's eyes clouded. "You have no idea. I my heart I always knew Hogwarts existed. But nobody would believe me. After all those years of therapy and Prozac even I had begun to think I might be crazy."  
  
"It just worries me what my family will think about my disappearance."  
  
"The Ministry took care of that," said a voice behind them.  
  
Minerva McGonagall set her shopping basket to the floor and pulled a chair to the table.  
  
"What do you mean - took care?"  
  
"They sent a letter in which you explained that your job would keep you in England for a longer period than you had thought. Probably until Christmas or longer."  
  
"They forged a letter?"  
  
"I am afraid that they did."  
  
"But my flat? Who is paying the rent?"  
  
"I guess they have means to take care of that as well." A pot of tea appeared in front of Minerva and she sight contentedly. "Ah, shopping kills my feet."  
  
Laurel sat there and watched her drink tea and make polite conversation with Serene. Homesickness almost choked her. Suddenly her mug cracked and burst. Ice crystals shattered all over the table. Minerva reacted fast and pinched Laurel's hand.  
  
"Ouch!"  
  
"Wake up, girl! Look what you just did. I thought you had some control over your feelings by now."  
  
"At least she didn't set fire," Serene remarked smugly. "And she'll come handy next summer. We'll never run out of ice cubes."  
  
* * *  
  
That evening after dinner Professor McGonagall waited for Laurel at the door of the Great Hall. Laurel blushed. The ice incident had been embarrassing and had minimised her chances to get released anywhere soon.  
  
"Come with me," McGonagall ordered.  
  
Speculating about what might happen to students who broke mugs by shock- freezing them, Laurel followed. They entered the Professor's study. On the carved oak desk stood a large china bowl with water.  
  
"I assume it was sadness, not anger that was responsible for this afternoon's unfortunate event?"  
  
"Yes. I am sorry."  
  
The older woman pointed at the bowl. "Maybe it gets better if you see that all is well at home."  
  
Laurel frowned. "In a soup tureen?"  
  
"Have a look."  
  
She waved a hand over the water and mumbled a few words. "Don't attempt this yourself yet!"  
  
The water surface rippled and blurred. Suddenly Laurel recognised colours, shapes and saw her nephews collect chestnuts from the big tree in her parent's garden while the sun set. Bobo, their dog, jumped about and barked. She smiled sadly and looked at Minerva. "Is this real?"  
  
"It happens this very minute. You can have a glimpse at them now and then. Just see me in my office and I help you. But you must promise to try and keep control."  
  
"It is not that I don't try … it just …"  
  
Professor McGonagall offered her a seat. "Your mind slips?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Is there anything at Hogwarts that worries you or scares you?"  
  
Laurel sighed. "Do you remember your first term at Hogwarts?"  
  
"Very vividly."  
  
"Now imagine all that but at age thirty. The kids are very nice and I like them a lot. But I feel like a fool most of the time."  
  
"But this fool will live and not get killed by avalanches or hailstorms."  
  
"What do you mean?" she asked suspiciously.  
  
"Allow me to call Professor Dumbledore to join or little conversation."  
  
Before Laurel could nod, Dumbledore stepped out of the fireplace. Laurel had seen some of the teachers do it but it still amazed her.  
  
The headmaster wiped his feet before he stepped onto Minerva's carpet. "Sorry about the ashes."  
  
"Never mind, Albus." Professor McGonagall smiled. "You and I agreed upon letting Miss Hunter settle in before we talked to her about the true reasons for her stay here. I feel the time has come now."  
  
Laurel sat up straight. "The true reason? What do you mean?"  
  
"All those accidents that happened to you form a pattern," Dumbledore explained. "Natural phenomena but sudden and violent. Considering that you had little control over your talents …"  
  
"Or none," Minerva muttered.  
  
"You could have been the cause of all that. But not the fire in the National Library," he continued.  
  
"Are you saying that somebody is trying to kill me?" Laurel felt a hysterical laughter raise in her throat. Smoke poisoning. She had suffered a real bad case of smoke poisoning and was hallucinating. All this - the school, the wizards, the broomsticks for heaven's sake - had to be caused be too much carbon monoxide. Right now she probably lay in a coma somewhere in a hospital bed.  
  
"We are afraid so."  
  
Minerva saw it coming and passed a glass with amber liquid to Laurel.  
  
"What is this? One of Snape's potions? Will it turn me into a frog?"  
  
"It is muggle cognac," Dumbledore smiled.  
  
Laurel drowned the glass in one go and coughed for the next minute or so. The Professors waited patiently until she could speak again.  
  
"Why would anybody want to kill me?"  
  
"We don't know, Miss Hunter." Dumbledore's voice sounded worried although the smile remained. "But trust us to find out."  
  
* * *  
  
Laurel walked back to her room in the east wing. Her head ached. Dumbledore's revelations had caused a tight knot in her stomach. The prospect of an evening in any of the common rooms made her wince. Who would have thought she'd miss television that much. Right know she'd have given anything for an hour of mindless entertainment.  
  
A dark figure stepped in her way and scared her so much she bit her tongue.  
  
"Ouch!"  
  
Ben held her wrist to keep her from hitting him. "Sorry, Laurel, sorry. I didn't mean to scare you."  
  
"Ben! What the hell?"  
  
He placed a finger on his lips. "Sssh! I saw McGonagall take you away after dinner. What happened?"  
  
"I froze a mug of butter beer."  
  
His blank stare made her laugh but the dark cloud of confusion and fear didn't lift. "A long story, Ben. It was nice to wait for me. I am not in trouble, if that's what you think."  
  
He walked next to her down the stairs. Laurel had subsided to wonder how the corridors were lit at night. There were no candles or light bulbs but enough light to move safely. From behind doors one could hear laughter and words.  
  
Ben stopped at the landing.  
  
"You don't look like you are up for scrabble."  
  
"Not really," she admitted. "Especially not against teenagers who have perfected their anagramatic spells years ago."  
  
He chuckled. "So that's why I always end up with all the Ys and Xs!"  
  
Through the window they could see the bright moon.  
  
"Maybe you should take a stroll through the forest, get some air," Ben suggested. "It is a bright night, you won't even need your wand to light the way."  
  
"I'd pawn my wand for a pocket torch any time." But he was right. The cool air would calm her nerves. Still …  
  
"We are not supposed to go there, are we? It's forbidden, they announced that the very first day at dinner."  
  
Ben laughed. "Oh Laurel, and you tell me you want nothing to do with this world? It is a fairy tale, nothing more. Of course they don't want the kids there - they are teachers, remember. Just take the name: Forbidden Forrest! What do you think is out there? Dragons? The Easter Bunny? Unicorns?"  
  
She gave him a self-mocking grin. "But I love fairy tales. I just don't want to live in one."  
  
* * *  
  
She remembered her own words when the shadows killed the unicorn. "I don't want to live in a fairy tale." Some fairy tales were cruel and so was this.  
  
They held the mare with chains glinting like silver, and although the creature strained against the chains it could not break free. A blade flashed in the moonlight.  
  
Laurel stood behind a tree, barely hidden by it's trunk and shadow. She couldn't move, tried to scream. A hand clamped over her mouth and stifled her cry. A familiar voice whispered almost inaudibly into her left ear.  
  
"No word if you want to live."  
  
She swallowed hard. Closing her eyes couldn't shut out the screams of pain and torture that accompanied the beautiful creature's death. The cloaked figures kneeled next to the unicorn's throat and after a moment of what seemed to be some sort of prayer or ritual, bowed over the pulsing stream of blood like over a water fountain.  
  
Laurel's stomach heaved.  
  
Then, like mist or shadows, the killers vanished in the darkness beyond the trees. Laurel's knees shook like crazy. Had the hand over her mouth not kept her pressed to a tall body behind her, she would have fallen where she stood. What was exactly what happened when he let go. Without thinking she crawled towards the dying animal. The mare lay trembling, her breath already going shallow, her shiny white coat matted with blood. The eyes fluttered open and looked straight at Laurel. She reached out and touched the soft muzzle. A sadness filled her heart and mind, a sadness far deeper than anything she had ever felt. Her homesickness, her confusion about the enforced stay at Hogwarts, certainly the disturbing crush she had developed on the Potions master - it all paled to nothingness compared to the utter sense of loss.  
  
Snape, who had kept her silent while the killers finished her despicable deed, saw with awe how tears streamed down her face, how sobs shook her body. While the pain and sadness seemed to pour out of her, all he could feel was panic and the need to get away - very far away where he needn't deal with so much emotion.  
  
Then he heard the sound of hooves in the clearing and knew it was too late. He moved closer towards the crying woman. The last thing they needed now was a unicorn crazed with pain after the loss of his mate. The stud stormed through the grass and mist, the horn lowered. His eyes, usually crystal clear, were clouded with desperation. Snape knew that he should grab Laurel and Apparate the hell out of there but all he could do was stand still. The unicorn suddenly stopped, the horn less than an inch from Snape's heart. Cold sweat began to trickle down his back. There were people who could communicate with unicorns. But not he. These creatures were too pure, too light. 'Lilly could do it,' he remembered.  
  
Laurel looked up. Still shaken and crying she saw Snape standing like a shield between the dead mare and the raging unicorn. She reached for Snape's hand. "He wants us to leave." She had no idea how the thought had entered her mind. "He wants to mourn her."  
  
Snape pulled her up and away from the blood-stained body. The unicorn watched their every move.  
  
Laurel took a last look back. "I am sorry," she whispered. The creature bowed his head. Snape's skin crawled. He had to get her away from there and fast.  
  
"Let us leave him alone." His tone was urgent and soothing at the same time. He held her wrist in a steely grip and dragged her after him trough the woods. The unicorn did not follow them. Finally when they had reached the meadow he allowed her to stop and catch her breath.  
  
Sudden anger almost choked him.  
  
"What in the underworld did you think you were doing in the Forbidden Forest? Do you want me to explain the term "forbidden" to you? It means DO - NOT - GO - THERE! Never. Ever." His voice had sounded louder than he intended.  
  
Tears welled up in her eyes once more. "I … they killed that beautiful animal. They sliced her throat and …," she whispered. "They drank her blood."  
  
Snape nodded. "This is not their first kill and they would not have spared any of us had they discovered our presence. Now let me ask again: What did you do there?"  
  
"I wanted to be alone for a while. I .. I am not used to be surrounded by people all day long. I am not used to follow a tight schedule I didn't set myself. You should be the first to understand. You can hide in that dungeon of yours if you want to be alone. But I have to deal with all that weird wizard stuff, haven't seen my friends and family in weeks and have to share a room with Serene."  
  
"I understand." He actually did. Not the part about her friends and family since he didn't have any and therefore never felt the need to see them. But the part about being alone. "Would you rather have me leave you?" At the same moment he knew that he couldn't let her by herself so close to the forest. She shook her head, sniffling.  
  
"I walked past the Quidditch grounds and then I entered the forest and got lost. I know I shouldn't have set foot in there but … The mist and the trees, it was like a maze. Only I couldn't find the exit. Then there was … the unicorn. The most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I didn't know they existed."  
  
"There are not many left," Snape remarked matter of factly. "Three of them got killed this summer."  
  
He passed her a handkerchief and she blew her nose.  
  
"Can you Apparate back to the castle gates?" he asked.  
  
She blushed. "I am not very good at Apparating, I'm afraid. I don't think I'll ever get a license. I mean, I can depart and all that. And I arrive. But not necessarily where I intend to."  
  
"So chances are that you end up on the roof?"  
  
"Or worse."  
  
He sighed. Of course he could have Apparated them back to Hogwarts in a matter of seconds. But that would make it unavoidable to touch her again. The two minutes he had held her in the forest to keep her from betraying their presence had been more than he could take a second time in one night. Hold her close, smell her hair, feel her heart beat ... No way.  
  
"Let us walk then," he suggested dryly. "That way we should arrive late but safely."  
  
They walked past the gardens. The cold nights had taken their toll of the flowerbeds. A few days ago Hagrid had wrapped the glasshouses in a protective coat of straw mats. The hedges glittered with frost.  
  
"So if Apparating is not one of your stronger subjects, what is?" Snape tried to keep her talking so she wouldn't think about the dead unicorn anymore. "And please don't tell me it is Potions because we both know it is not."  
  
"I am rather good at spells," she ventured. "And history. Everything you can learn from books, I guess. Though it's been a while since I fell off the broom. In fact it is much like riding a bike."  
  
She looked at him curiously. "Did you ever?"  
  
"Did I ever what? Fall off a broom? No."  
  
"Did you ever ride a bike?"  
  
He thought about it. "I wouldn't think so."  
  
Laurel rubbed her arms vigorously to get warm. "Will it snow here in winter? This is Scotland, isn't it?"  
  
"It was, last time I looked," he sneered. "Didn't the Ministry supply you with appropriate clothes?"  
  
That blew it. "What is wrong with my sweater?" she fumed. "It has been a while since I had to wear a school uniform. And believe me I am not like Serene who finds some sick pleasure in disguising as an aged Head girl in plaid skirts and stockings."  
  
Snape did his best to remain serious. "Your sweater is fine," he managed. "Only …"  
  
"I risked my life for that sweater, OK?" She pointed to the washed out emblazoned letters. "I had to outrun hundreds of rock-fans to get it. Not that you people have any idea what rock music is!"  
  
His voice was suspiciously grave. "I may waste the better part of my time forcing the basic rules of concoction into pea-brains and preventing Neville Longbottom from meeting an early death in my classroom, but contrary to your opinion of me I am not completely ignorant of the muggle world. I know quite well what rock music is."  
  
That shut her up, at least for 30 seconds.  
  
"So why is everybody picking at my clothes?"  
  
"I just thought you must be cold," he shrugged. "I don't give a damn about clothes as everybody in Hogwarts will be pleased to confirm. If you ask one of the house-elves I am sure they can provide something that is warm but doesn't turn you into an … aged schoolgirl. In the meantime …" He slipped out of his woollen cloak and handed it to her.  
  
"Thank you," she beamed. "But you'll freeze to death." He only wore pants and a black shirt which made his face even paler than usual. "Why don't we share the cloak? It is big enough for both of us."  
  
In the dark she couldn't tell for sure but the mere suggestion seemed to make him flinch.  
  
"Keep it. I shall use a spell instead."  
  
"Thank you." She shrugged into the cloak and immediately ceased shivering.  
  
Silently they walked on.  
  
Snape's mood turned black. It had been a long night. He had failed to save the unicorn, he had had more than his share of unwanted emotions and the spell against the cold didn't work all too well either.  
  
And he still felt her soft lips against the palm of his hand.  
  
After what seemed like eternity, the castle appeared.  
  
The towers had never seemed so much like home. He pushed open the door. "I will have to report the death of the unicorn to Dumbledore."  
  
"I know."  
  
"I can't keep you out of this. The forest is forbidden for all students, mature or not."  
  
"Why, Professor, you wouldn't want to damage your reputation! If I was in any of the houses you'd probably take a billion points away and it would make your day." She handed him his cloak.  
  
He took it and stood in the hall while she went up the stairs to her quarters. On the landing she bent over the railing and looked down. "By the way. Thank you for saving my life, Potions master."  
  
* * * 


	4. Believing

4. Believing  
  
  
  
During the next week Filch and Hagrid took special care to keep students out of the Forbidden Forrest. At Sunday lunch Dumbledore announced once more that anybody seen beyond the Quidditch field would serve detention for two weeks - and detention of the most unpleasant kind.  
  
Laurel sighed and avoided Serene's glance. Her roommate had grilled her again and again after she had caught her sneaking into their room around midnight. Laurel had not volunteered any information, but from the fact that she had spent all Saturday in detention cleaning the topshelves of the library, Serene could probably draw her own conclusions.  
  
After lunch she watched longingly how everybody milled out into freedom and again she felt like a teenager, grounded by her parents. Before her lay another five hours of dusting and sweeping.  
  
But actually it wasn't too bad. After all, these shelves had not been cleaned for ages, and the books there longed more for a reader than for a duster. Madam Pierce, the librarian, never checked Laurel's cleaning, and seemed to be content when she appeared and left in time and kept silent while she was there. So she spent the hours studying rather than dusting.  
  
The weekend was a quiet time at the library. Most students avoided it if they could, only Hermione Granger breezed in to restock her supply of literature before she went to Hogsmeade with her friends.  
  
Laurel made herself comfortable at the top of the ladder and began to leave through a colourful volume of "Hogwarts, Fiction and Facts", when a black robed figure walked in and greeted Madam Pierce absentmindedly.  
  
From her outlook on the ladder she watched Snape unlock a leather-bound volume from its shelf in the Restricted Section. He carried the book to one of the desks, placed a hand on top of it, drew his wand and cast a spell to keep it from biting off his fingers. Only then he opened it and started to take notes on a sheet of parchment.  
  
  
  
The late afternoon sun filled the library with it's rays and made the dust glitter like gold.  
  
Snape close the book but instead of returning it he just sat there, his head rested against a book case, eyes closed. For the first time she saw him utterly relaxed, off guard. His face looked much younger and at the same time more vulnerable and exhausted. Long dark lashes drew crescent shaped shadows.  
  
Laurel sat on the top step of the ladder and wrapped her arms around her knees. She didn't dare to move. He'd be annoyed if he knew that she was watching him. He was the most private person she knew.  
  
"Stop staring at me, Miss Hunter." His voice was cool but at least not as icy as she knew it could get.  
  
She blushed. "I am sorry."  
  
"You seem to be quite content with your detention."  
  
"I am cleaning the shelves," she coughed.  
  
"It looks more like you were patting lonesome books from where I am sitting."  
  
"Some of those have not been opened for ages," Laurel admitted. "A little more dust will do no harm but they want to be read."  
  
She put the softly protesting book back into its place and climbed down the ladder.  
  
The Potions master watched her brush grey dust balls off the hem of her robe. When she bent down, he caught a flash of her cleavage and with surprise and resentment felt his body react immediately. Had it come that far? He hadn't had a woman for some time but he had always prided himself on his self-restraint.  
  
He scowled and saw with some satisfaction that she stepped back. But then she straightened her back and he had to admit that she was braver than most students. Pointing at the book at his desk she asked: "What are you reading?"  
  
"I was looking for a recipe."  
  
"A recipe? I thought you knew them all by heart?"  
  
"Not even I …  
  
"The Greatest Potions Master of All."  
  
"I beg your pardon?" He stared at her incredulously.  
  
Laurel blushed. "Sorry, it wasn't meant like it came out. It is just what Serene calls you all the time. The Greatest Potions Master in the wizarding world."  
  
His cold demeanour cracked. "I suppose I ought to be flattered?"  
  
"I suppose so." She smiled. "What recipe are you looking for?"  
  
"I already found it."  
  
He pointed at the parchment. His handwriting was generous and clear. She could decipher the word Wolfsbane before he rolled the parchment into a tight scroll and stuck it into his sleeve. "Wolfsbane"? Are you brewing werewolf remedies, Professor?"  
  
He made a show of looking shocked. "Don't tell me you have been studying, Miss Hunter?"  
  
Laurel shrugged. "I won't get out of here before I can't do a certain number of spells and stuff."  
  
"Potions s not ... stuff!"  
  
"I know," she sighed. "It is an subtle art."  
  
He leaned back against the shelf. "So you still hate Hogwarts?"  
  
"I don't … hate it," she admitted. "I just want to go home. And I feel useless and stupid most of the time. There are spells I'll never master no matter how hard I try."  
  
"You don't need to know every spell there is."  
  
"I'd rather not know every potions there is, if you don't mind."  
  
"Nice try, Miss Hunter. But let me tell you, that you are neither useless nor … stupid."  
  
Her eyes met his in honest surprise. "Do you mean that?"  
  
Exasperated he gave her a now so familiar sneer. "I am notorious for never complimenting students who don't deserve it."  
  
"Actually you are notorious for not even complimenting those who do deserve it."  
  
Snape shook his head and felt foolish. Why did he find himself counselling Laurel Hunter, when he had not approved of the mature students class in the beginning?  
  
"Why was this one chained to its shelf?" She pointed at the book.  
  
"It is dangerous."  
  
She shook her head angrily. "I thought you wizards were more intelligent than us Muggles, but you are just as ignorant. Books are not dangerous. Ignorance is."  
  
He snorted. „Believe me, Miss Hunter, this book is dangerous. And you are no Muggle anymore, mind you. You are one of us, ignorant as we may be."  
  
"Tell me then, what is so dangerous about the book?"  
  
"Open it," he nodded towards the heavy volume on the desk. But when she reached out, he quickly seized her hand and pulled it back. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "You were not joking? You really do not know, do you?"  
  
She stared at him. "Know what?"  
  
Instead of answering he picked up a wooden ruler one of the students had forgotten on a desk nearby. Holding Laurel back with one arm, he used the ruler to prize open the cover. The shock in her eyes when the book bit the wooden ruler into shreds cheered him up a little.  
  
"That is why we keep some books in the restricted section and in chains. Others will not bite your fingers off but will poison your mind. They are just as dangerous if you don't know how to take them on."  
  
Snape drew his wand. A quick spell calmed the book and he brought it back to its place and locked it up. When he turned, Laurel still stared at him.  
  
"How can you live in a world like this?" was all she managed. Her eyes swam in tears. "With unicorns and poltergeists and biting books?"  
  
He shrugged and stepped closer, suddenly very aware of the warm light on her hair and skin. "How do Muggles live in a world with automobiles and machine guns and … what do you call it, CCs?"  
  
"CDs. You don't have CDs here, do you?"  
  
He took her hand and lead her to a high shelf filled with hundreds of seashell cones. At random he took a pink shell and held it to her ear. A beautiful voice sang a sad song about a girl lost in the woods. Laurel closed her eyes. The music was enchanting, almost mesmerising, and when Snape removed the shell and placed it back on the shelf, she felt as if she had lost something very precious.  
  
"This is restricted music. The siren's songs." He watched her carefully. "Never listen to it alone. You won't be able to quit."  
  
"It is beautiful." Once more she had the feeling of drowning in his eyes. She blinked. "Thank you for letting me hear this."  
  
They stood very close. Like in the Forbidden Forest she recognised only then how tall he was. If she moved one inch closer, her head would rest on his shoulder. He seemed restrained and calm as always, and suddenly Laurel blushed with embarrassment. Why did her heart beat like after a run?  
  
Snape could see the green specs in her hazel eyes, the dark tips of her eyelashes. She didn't flinch but met his stare with repose. But the hand he still held trembled.  
  
"Are you cold?"  
  
"Are you?" she replied with a tiny voice.  
  
Later that evening Snape told himself over and over that the kiss had been a mistake - one he would avoid in the future. But at that very moment both his mind and body agreed that a kiss was the only sensible and appropriate course of action.  
  
He closed his fingers over her wrist, drew her closer until he could feel her frantic heartbeat.  
  
His other hand slid to the back of her neck.  
  
"I am freezing."  
  
He said it softly, his lips only an inch from hers. For a moment he let her warmth embrace him. Then he kissed her.  
  
Laurel felt a hot shot of joy go from her stomach right into her heart. His lips were warm, the touch surprisingly soft, but only for a minute. She had no chance against the force with which he took possession of her mouth, not that she ever wasted a thought on resistance. Too intoxicating was the taste of his tongue exploring her mouth, the pressure of that tall, angular body against hers. She answered his every move.  
  
Snape wanted to give up the control and restraint he had taught himself to live by, and just ravage her mouth. Her hands wandered up to his shoulders. He winced when she started to stroke his back with gentle moves. But at the very moment he didn't care.  
  
And he wanted her, he realised. Quite desperately he wanted her. His student. Oh Merlin, his student! Focussing on the pain, he pushed her back.  
  
"I am sorry, Miss Hunter," he said flatly. "My conduct is unforgivable."  
  
She touched her lips with trembling fingers, her face flushed. "You are sorry?"  
  
"I shall report to Headmaster Dumbledore what happened."  
  
"No!" She grabbed his sleeve and held him. "Please don't."  
  
"This time it was I who broke the rules. I am a teacher and you are a student, Miss Hunter. What happened is entirely my fault and I shall face the consequences."  
  
Angrily she cut off his little speech. "No, it won't be you who has to face the consequences! The Ministry will thank you for this. They disagree with Dumbledore anyway. They will stop the class for mature students as soon as they hear what happened."  
  
"You expect me to …"  
  
"Oh please, stop worrying about your precious virtue and pride! Consider what this will do to Serene and Ben! Do you want them to pay for what we just did?"  
  
He bowed his head. "It was not your fault. I take all responsibility for taking advantage of you."  
  
For a long moment she just looked at him. When she finally spoke her voice was steady but very soft. "I am not a child, Potions master. It takes two for a kiss like that."  
  
Then she turned and walked out on him, the golden sunrays around her head like a halo.  
  
* * *  
  
Monday was Laurel's favourite day. She did Triple DADA, all morning long, first with first years, than second years, and finally, before lunch, with third years. Professor Lupin had agreed to let her sit in with the second and third years although she had not even mastered the curriculum of the first year. He and Dumbledore agreed that she would probably learn more from watching than from books.  
  
The incident in the library had left her shaken and confused. She had not intended to kiss Snape. She did not approve of teacher-student relationships, too many times they happened to turn out as a stronger party exploiting a weaker one. On the other hand, she was not really a student, was she? More like a prisoner.  
  
She absentmindedly drew circles into "Who is Who in the Dark Arts". Would she have been attracted to Snape had she met him in the real world, her world? Probably, she had to admit to herself. Imagine the man with decent clothes, a haircut and … well … a smile. Of course she'd have fallen for him. But kissing him in the library still was completely out of character for her.  
  
Briefly she wondered if he had talked to Dumbledore yet.  
  
  
  
"Sorry, I am late."  
  
Laurel smiled when Lupin entered the classroom, a huge trunk levitating after him like a pet. Remus Lupin was by far the nicest of all Professors. She liked his shy smile, the kind way he treated his students and the respect he paid any creature.  
  
Amused, but with a sudden sting in her heart, she watched Neville Longbottom turn … something … into Professor Snape, wearing women's robes and a hideous hat complete with stuffed vulture and all. Lupin had explained before how the Boggart he supposedly kept in the trunk would take the appearance of whatever his victim feared. She wondered whether Snape knew how utterly afraid of him Neville was.  
  
When Lupin dismissed the class, Laurel packed her books and turned to leave.  
  
"Miss Hunter, a minute, please."  
  
She smiled at him. His fair eyes reminded her of something, but she couldn't name it.  
  
"Professor?"  
  
"I need to talk to you about the complaint the ghosts filed about you. This must be taken seriously."  
  
Laurel shook her head. "Sorry? Did you just say, ghosts filed a complaint?"  
  
"Yes. About your behaviour. Obviously," he unfolded a piece of parchment and read with furrowed forehead, "you do not greet them politely. You don't answer their questions."  
  
She just stared at him.  
  
"I know they can be annoying and Peeves is a pest, but nevertheless they live here with us and should be treated like anybody else with politeness."  
  
"Professor Lupin, I don't have the slightest idea what you are talking about."  
  
Now it was his turn to stare at her. Suspicion dawned in his eyes. "You don't see them," he concluded with a soft voice.  
  
"See whom?"  
  
"The Fat Friar. Nearly headless Nick. Peeves the Poltergeist."  
  
Laurel couldn't help but laugh. "So there is a Poltergeist after all, is there? It would have been so disappointing to live in a castle without a proper ghost."  
  
"You can't see them!" Lupin paced the room and muttered to himself. "Of course, that explains a lot." He grabbed her hand and drew her to the trunk. "Open it, Miss Hunter."  
  
She smiled. "But you said, there was a Boggart in there. Shouldn't you teach me the appropriate spell before I open it?"  
  
"Just open it."  
  
Laurel needed all her strength to lift the cover. The trunk was empty.  
  
"Well. I opened it. What now?"  
  
„Now close it." Lupin shook his head in wonderment.  
  
He sat down on one of the desks and patted the seat next to him. "Sit down. This may take a while. What did you see in the trunk?"  
  
"Nothing. It was empty."  
  
Lupin shook with suppressed laughter. "And what if I tell you that a very frightened and unhappy Boggart is in the trunk?"  
  
"It is empty."  
  
"It is empty, yes, but only to you. But you saw how it turned into Professor Snape when Neville opened it, didn't you?" He had seen her flinch and wondered briefly why it had bothered her to see Snape ridiculed. "But you can't see it when you look at it yourself. You don't believe in Boggarts, do you, Laurel?"  
  
"No, of course not."  
  
"And you don't believe in ghosts, either."  
  
"No." She looked at him. "But you do."  
  
"Everybody at Hogwarts does. We see them, we talk to them."  
  
"I don't see anything. I am sorry, Professor."  
  
The sat there in silence. Lupin kept shaking his head. Eventually he sighed. "I ask myself what would happen to You-know-who if nobody believed in him anymore. Would he wither and fade away like the Boggart? But then, he killed enough Muggles who didn't believe in him."  
  
"You-know-who?"  
  
"Never mind, Miss Hunter. I will explain your … ah ... predicament … to the ghosts. I am sure they'll understand. Peeves will be quite annoyed though. So if you find your toothpaste replaced with glue or your bed soaking wet, be patient."  
  
"Actually," Laurel mused while she picked up her bag and her books, "my toothpaste tasted awfully this morning."  
  
"Sounds like Peeves wants your attention. Maybe we can find another way to communicate. I only hope the Boggart will not take it too badly," Lupin said when he locked the trunk and followed Laurel to the great hall. "It spent all its life in Hogwarts and has never met anybody like you."  
  
"Who denies its existence. I can see why it feels uneasy."  
  
"It cried."  
  
"Professor Lupin?"  
  
He smiled at her and suddenly she knew what his eyes reminded her of: A wolf she had see in a zoo, desperate behind the iron bars that held it captive. "Miss Hunter?"  
  
"Why did the Boggart turn into the moon when you opened the trunk?"  
  
His eyes narrowed while he looked hat her. His hair was streaked with grey, like a winter pelt. Could he possibly …  
  
Laurel sighed. "Sorry. I am intruding your privacy."  
  
"Let's go and eat, Miss Hunter. I am starving. And next Monday, please try to believe in Hinkypunks or we will have a real problem."  
  
* * * 


	5. Poison

5. Poison  
  
A week passed and Laurel began to ask herself if she hadn't imagined the kiss at all. Snape was back to his usual nasty behaviour. It was difficult not to forget how patient and concerned he could be, when he sneered at Neville, reduced the first years to desperate tears and generally made everybody's life miserable. So what if he was the world's greatest Potions master, as Serene and Ben agreed over dinner?  
  
"He is the world's greatest tyrant as well," Laurel dared to interrupt their praises.  
  
Serene blushed with anger. "But Laurel, did you watch him put that Frenzy Potion together? In every book it says it can't be done. And he uses it as a teaching example! How cool is that?"  
  
All Laurel remembered, was that he had made two Ravenclaw girls cry that morning. "Probably is fond of his own potions," she muttered under her breath. At the staff table Snape and Lupin discussed something, a first since they usually avoided each other like the plague.  
  
"That Defence teacher! Something is wrong with him," Serene mused. "He seems to be sick a lot. And wouldn't you think a DADA teacher should look a little more intimidating? I bet Lupin couldn't kill a fly if it bothered him."  
  
Laurel sighed. It was a mistake to sit with Ben and Serene, she reminded herself. Serene's enthusiasm for the darker aspects of wizarding was unbearable, and Ben … well, Ben was friendly enough but there was something about him that would not let her get closer. Not that she suspected him to read her mind or anything, but there was a coldness in him, an almost inhuman coldness.  
  
She would eat with the Ravenclaws tomorrow, or the Gryffindors. Serene liked to join the Slytherin table, still convinced that she'd have been one of them, had she been admitted in time. Laurel for her part thought that she'd rather live in Hagrid's pumpkin patch than with the Slytherins. She'd heard enough stories about them so far. And their Head of House tried to stare her down over the staff table right now. Which was a change since he had ignored her completely all week long, had neither spoken to her nor acknowledged her presence in any way. But now that his stare burned holes into her skin, she wished he'd go on ignoring her.  
  
* * *  
  
Two hours after she had left the Great Hall, Laurel kneeled at the floor in front of her bed. The world swayed and wouldn't stand still. The pain had started when she entered the room to pick up her books and return to the Gryffindor common room to study. Serene had disappeared and without a doubt spent the evening with her favourite house.  
  
Again the cramps in her stomach made her wretch and she cowered on the floor for minutes. Cold sweat trickled down her back when she finally gathered enough strength to stand up. The pain was excruciating and blurred her mind. She couldn't think straight but she felt like she was about to die. When she took a step towards the door, her knees gave in and she fell again. She'd never make it to the hospital wing on foot, probably not even down the corridor.  
  
Would her strength allow her to Apparate to the hospital? Professor McGonagall had explained that a magical barrier prevented anybody from Apparating into Hogwarts from the world outside. But inside the school it was possible if exhausting. So anybody resorted to walking or the Floo system. She'd probably splinch but at least the pain would splinch with her then. Hands clamped at her stomach, she concentrated and disapparated.  
  
Snape sat in a chair by the fireplace and pulled a blanket around his shoulders. Would he ever get warm again? Since he had returned to Hogwarts and Dumbledore had taken him on as Potions master he had lived in these dark and damp rooms in the dungeons, just around the corner from the potions classroom. This arrangement suited him since it allowed him to keep away from both stuff and students. He would have preferred not to be Head of Slytherin but Dumbledore had made it clear that the position as Head teacher was part of his penance.  
  
In all those years the dungeons had never seemed so cold and Snape's mood had never been so dark. Longingly he remembered the last term. Nosy indolent students, yes. Potter and his merry band as annoying as James and Sirius and Lupin, yes. But at least he had been certain of who he was and what he wanted. And then those damned matured students had to arrive. Serene Kennedy with her almost palpable wish for power, Olsen with his sharp cold mind and first of all and certainly most annoying, Miss Hunter.  
  
He was no fool, he knew sexual attraction when he felt it, but this was more, worse, different. And there was no way he'd ever touch one of his students, mature or not. He sneered and stretched his leg to push another log into the fire. Even he, arrogant and cruel and greasy haired, had the usual problems with teenagers overpowered by their hormones. Never with Gryffindors, for whom it was a matter of house pride, and not with Hufflepuffs, who were easily scared. But every other year there would be a Ravenclaw following him around with puppy eyes. For some of them intelligence and wisdom made up for even the most unpleasant appearance or behaviour. But he tried to nip any delusions in the bud and usually succeeded rather soon. With the Slytherin girls all he needed to do was make them see that he would not participate in their little power games and suggest they found a victim more willing than he.  
  
But Laurel was neither Gryffindor nor Hufflepuff and certainly not Slytherin. A ready mind and a love for books. Would have been sorted into Ravenclaw as a first year, he mused. He was only a few years her senior. Would she have noticed him then? Probably not. Or else her fellow students would have convinced her soon enough that Severus Snape was out of the question. As a Slytherin. As a bully. As someone who was most likely to become a Death Eater right after graduation.  
  
And he? Would he have noticed her? He remembered himself as a fifth year, painfully shy and reclusive, only striving for power and control. Desperate not to let anybody find out why he kept to himself. No, he'd have tried to stay away from her as far a possible.  
  
As he had now.  
  
He had tried to stay away from her.  
  
He had tried to see her as just another annoying student. But to no avail.  
  
When he had touched her hand to explain how to levitate the feather, he had felt the warmth radiating from her skin. The night they had watched the unicorn die had made it only worse. He had scrubbed his hand with soap and still felt the soft touch of her lips for days. His cloak still smelled of her perfume, a light scent of almond and burned sugar, so he had buried it in the darkest corner of his closet and would not touch it again until he had time to clean it thoroughly.  
  
And then Sunday afternoon at the library …  
  
He closed his eyes in exasperation.  
  
When a sudden "plop" announced an unlicensed Apparition, he jumped. A skilled wizard would Apparate soundlessly. Who of the students would dare to Apparate right into a teacher's quarters? Not even Potter, who had an invisibility cloak to sneak around where he was not supposed to.  
  
Prepared to yell at whoever he rose from his chair but when he recognised the female body at his feet he was lost for words.  
  
Laurel groaned. Why of all the rooms in all the wings of this wretched castle had she Apparated into Snape's? A wave of pain nauseated her and she let her head sink back to the threadbare carpet.  
  
"I am sorry," she whispered. "But I think I am dying."  
  
Then she fainted.  
  
Snape knelt down at her side and felt her forehead. He knew enough about poisons to recognise the effect when he saw it. He picked up one of her hands and studied the fingernails. They had turned blue. Cold fear found its way into his heart. He swept her up from the floor and wrapped her in the blanket he had carelessly dropped. The woman in his arms, he reached for the Floo on the mantle. They had an hour or less to find out what was poisoning her and to produce an antidote.  
  
  
  
Madame Pomfrey informed the Headmaster the minute Snape had left the hospital to return to his lab. Laurel was still unconscious, wrapped in several blankets to keep her warm, and lay in a hospital bed under the matrons watchful eye. All Pomfrey could say was that the young woman's state reminded her of a case of accidental poisoning by bitter almonds.  
  
Dumbledore Apparated straight into Snape's lab and found the Potions master bent over a thick volume.  
  
"Goat's stone and a bit of mandragora to strengthen her heart," he suggested. "We have to act quickly, though."  
  
Snape looked up. "I will need your help with this, Albus."  
  
The old wizard only nodded. His wand summoned the huge kettle on the hook in the fireplace. They took turns in counting drops from various bottles Snape fetched from a strongcase. The purple vile smelling liquid in the cauldron started to bubble and change colours when he added a pinch of a white sparkling powder. A fragrant scent wavered and made Dumbledore look at Snape.  
  
"It smells done."  
  
"It will be, in a minute," the Potions master agreed. He filtered the liquid through a bit of fine gauze into a small glass bottle. Dumbledore looked at the hour glass at the desk. "We are running out of time."  
  
Both wizards stepped into the fireplace and Flooed to the hospital.  
  
  
  
Madame Pomfrey sat beside Laurel's bed and prepared another cold pressure. Her pretty blue eyes were clouded with worry.  
  
"She is getting worse by the minute."  
  
Snape put his left hand under Laurel's head and used the other to make her open her mouth. Dumbledore uncorked the glass bottle and carefully counted drops onto her tongue. Madame Pomfrey passed Snape a glass of water.  
  
"Come on, just one sip," he muttered. "Just one sip and you'll feel better."  
  
Laurel's eyes flew open. The pupils were too big, her eyes not brown anymore but black. But her gaze held his steadily while she swallowed with pain.  
  
Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey watched amazed how gentle the Potions master helped her lay back again. A soft smile lightened up the headmaster's face. He placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder.  
  
"You'll want to stay a while just to make sure the antidote works."  
  
Snape only nodded.  
  
"But I'd like to see you in my office as soon as you think she is on her way to recovery."  
  
* * *  
  
When Snape finally knocked on Dumbledore's door the headmaster called him in. A tray with tea and little sandwiches waited on a side table and Snape suddenly felt how hungry he was. Dumbledore passed him a cup of hot strong tea and ushered him into one of the deep leather seats by the fireplace.  
  
"How is Miss Hunter?"  
  
"She'll live."  
  
Snape drank his tea and closed his eyes for a moment. He tried to relax. "It was a close run."  
  
Dumbledore watched the Potions master's face. All angles and shadows, a hooked nose, deep set eyes. He remembered another night in this room, years ago, when he had studied this face and had decided to set all his trust in this man. Snape had not spared him one detail of his time in Voldemort's army. He had told him about murder, torture and violence in a voice that rarely betrayed the pain and shame he felt. But it had been there, in his eyes, and still was.  
  
The younger man absentmindedly rubbed his left forearm. Dumbledore doubted he was aware of it.  
  
Snape felt the gaze of the headmaster and opened his eyes again.  
  
"I'll have to ask you for a few days leave soon."  
  
"The meetings are getting more frequent now."  
  
"He is gathering his army."  
  
"Again."  
  
The two men sat silent for a moment.  
  
Then Dumbledore refilled Snape's and his tea cup.  
  
"I don't know how to start, Severus" he admitted.  
  
Snape snorted. "I have yet to see you lost for words, headmaster."  
  
"Well, I always thought that there is no stronger magic than words. But what I am asking of you now …"  
  
"I'll be in you debt for the rest of my life, so whatever you ask I'll do."  
  
"My dear boy," Dumbledore shook his head. "You are in nobody's debt but your own."  
  
Snape's eyes grew cold and distant. "You are very friendly but I know what I know."  
  
"You never expected any mercy, did you? I could have delivered you to Azkaban and yet you came to me."  
  
The Potions master bowed his head and starred into the fire.  
  
"Severus, those attempts on Miss Hunter's life are really meant to destroy you."  
  
Snape's head jerked up. "Destroy me?"  
  
"We discussed …"  
  
"Who is we, may I ask?"  
  
"Professor McGonagall and I." Dumbledore rose a hand to silence Snape's objections. "She cares about you, Severus. A lot."  
  
Snape sneered. „So you ... discussed."  
  
"We agreed that Miss Hunter could give you … certain things you are missing. And vice versa. You'd make each other whole."  
  
"Whole," Snape spat.  
  
"We think by killing Miss Hunter, somebody tries to prevent a tie between the two of you."  
  
"A tie?" The Potions master rose furiously. "Headmaster! Are you out of your mind? You offer me a cup of tea and by the way ask me to bed a woman?"  
  
Dumbledore remained seated and patiently let the younger man rave.  
  
"There are different kinds of ties, my friend."  
  
"None that I want. Certainly none that Miss Hunter could wish for. Albus, she is my student!"  
  
"She is of age and an independent spirit."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So if she agreed, would you as well?"  
  
"It would endanger her life."  
  
"Not more than the current situation. If there was any tie between the two of you you'd be able to help her, to protect her."  
  
"You could send her away. There must be places even Voldemort won't find her."  
  
"No I can't," Dumbledore replied calmly. "The Ministry made that very clear. It is either Hogwarts or the guesthouse."  
  
"They'd put her into custody for exactly what reason?"  
  
"Being a stray wizard? Hexing without a licence? You know the Ministry. They don't need a reason."  
  
"I can't afford a relationship right now. "Snape's voice was rough with suppressed anger.  
  
"You can't afford to go on without her, Severus. I mean it. It is for the best of both of you."  
  
Snape set his cup down hard on the table. "Don't even think about it. You may dispose of my life as you wish. But do not tie that woman to me."  
  
"We shall let Miss Hunter decide then."  
  
"No."  
  
Dumbledore watched the Potions master storm out of the room. "Ah, Severus," he muttered while he helped himself to a sandwich. "So much confusion and anger and pain. If anybody needs this tie it is you."  
  
* * * 


	6. Ties

6. Ties  
  
"I am not sick anymore," Laurel tried again. "Really."  
  
Madame Pomfrey stood with her arms crossed and shook her head. "You must wait for the headmaster, Miss Hunter."  
  
Laurel surrendered and sat down again. She really felt much better and she wanted to get out of the hospital wing. With relief she saw Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall walk down the corridor. They stopped at some doors and talked to children, but slowly made their way to the sitting room.  
  
"Do you remember our little talk in Professor McGonagall's study, Miss Hunter?" Dumbledore asked instead of a greeting.  
  
"You told me somebody was out to kill me," she replied dryly. "This is not something one forgets easily. So I guess it was not a very bad case of food poisoning that brought me here."  
  
"You are quite right, my dear. A deadly poison, and so sophisticated it usually kills before somebody figures out an antidote."  
  
"But you did, thank God."  
  
"No, it is due to Professor Snape you are still with us."  
  
Laurel blushed when she remembered Apparating into Snape's bedroom.  
  
Dumbledore pulled a chair next to hers. "We think we know …"  
  
"You know who tries to kill me?"  
  
"No. Not yet," he regretted. "But we know why."  
  
"Oh." Laurel didn't know what to say. She couldn't think of any reason to kill her. After all she had never caused any serious harm or at least she preferred to think so. Even her break up with Jack had been amiable and civilised.  
  
"So tell me. Why would anybody want to kill me?"  
  
McGonagall interfered. "You are just the means, my dear girl. But not the aim."  
  
Laurel sighed. "I really don't understand."  
  
Dumbledore looked at the female teacher. "Maybe you could explain the circumstances, Minerva?"  
  
"Very well," she nodded and settled into the third char by the fireplace. Madame Pomfrey closed the door to grant them some privacy.  
  
"All this started a long time ago. Hogwarts wasn't always the haven of peace it may appear as today. It was founded by four great wizards and one of the things they didn't agree on from the start was whether education should be available only to pureblood wizards or also to those some call mudbloods." She frowned. "The founding wizards kept the peace for the sake of Hogwarts. But a few dozen years ago a young man, a student at this school, broke the truce. People got killed, violence and chaos rose. He gathered followers. We saw it coming and yet we couldn't prevent it."  
  
"We had a few students then who we thought gifted and able to defeat … Voldemort." Professor McGonagall closed her eyes when he said the name. "One of them was James Potter. Harry's father. The other was Professor Snape, then also a student, at Slytherin."  
  
"They were equals considering their abilities but in the end James was the one we picked and he was the one who got killed. He and many others, amongst them Harry's mother Lily."  
  
"Why didn't you choose Snape?" Laurel ventured.  
  
"Students spent the formative years of their life at Hogwarts which allows us to get to know them very well. We watch them grow both physically and spiritually. In Snape's case we felt a darkness that spread in him. We feared that if Severus got too close to the Dark Lord and his promises of power, he wouldn't be able to resist. Which is exactly what happened. James got killed and Snape changed sides right after graduation. We are to blame for both tragedies."  
  
Dumbledore patted Minerva's hand. "Now now, Minerva. We talked about that. Free will and all. And after all, Snape was strong enough to come back into the light."  
  
"Many still don't trust him."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Listen," Laurel interfered. All these stories about good and evil made her dizzy. "Let's try to focus on the things I can understand. Why is somebody trying to kill me?"  
  
"Somebody - and we think it is him, you-know-who or one of his minions - is trying to harm Snape."  
  
She gazed. "Harm Snape by killing me."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"Right."  
  
Longingly she remembered her theory about a smoke induced coma. Maybe if she just closed her eyes hard enough she would wake up and be back to the real world?  
  
Minerva worriedly gestured to Dumbledore who cleared his throat.  
  
"Miss Hunter, here at Hogwarts we very strongly believe in a universal balance. Day and night, warm and cold. Nothing ever gets lost, only misplaced. And if there is a … a void, something missing, one has to find that missing piece to become whole again."  
  
"Right."  
  
"But all metaphysical explanations set aside, these attacks on your life must stop."  
  
"Oh, on this we agree," Laurel replied with a sneer and opened her eyes.  
  
"How do you get along with the Professor Snape?"  
  
"I really hate the way he intimidates his students and we seem to get into a fight every other day." She remembered the kiss and blushed. Reluctantly she admitted: "But there is something about him that attracts me. Can't be his pretty face or his pleasant manners, though."  
  
Minerva nodded. "His darkness and your light attract each other."  
  
"I am not all light myself."  
  
"I know." Dumbledore's gentle eyes reassured her in her suspicion that he knew everything. Well, almost everything. "There is a piece missing of you as well, isn't that so?"  
  
Professor McGonagall sighed. "You must know. Severus wasn't always like he is now."  
  
"Like now? You mean, arrogant and sneering and a conceited tyrant? "  
  
"Ah, something like that, yes. To say that he once was outgoing and cheery would be a blatant lie. But as a student he was shy in a rather sweet way. I was a teacher then, albeit very young and inexperienced." Laurel hardly trusted her eyes when she saw the older woman blushing. "His father was … very hard on him. Centuries of tradition and family pride but no heart whatsoever - a very unpleasant man. In spite of all his brooding the son is nothing like him."  
  
"The thing is, would you agree to … combine forces with him? To make the killing stop?" Dumbledore interrupted Professor McGonagall's recollections. "We won't ask this of you if you feel that you can't work with him. That you hate him or feel repulsed."  
  
Laurel shook her head. "Why should I hate him? I am not one of the first years he tortures out of mere boredom as I assume." Again she remembered the kiss and his body, so close to hers. "No really, I can work with him. Just tell me what you want me to do. But be warned, I am just a beginner, magicwise."  
  
The old man smiled faintly and rose a hand.  
  
"We want you to forge a tie."  
  
"A tie?"  
  
"Professor Snape will certainly explain it to you." His blue gentle eyes held her captive. She saw his lips move.  
  
A sudden wave of nausea hit her and she fell back into the chair. When she opened her eyes again, she felt much better. But then she gasped. Somehow the hospital room had transformed into a rather cosy sitting room with a nice fire in the fireplace and a plate with gingerbread on the tea table. Oh - and a very exasperated Snape by the door.  
  
  
  
His fist hit the solid oak door. The sound made Laurel wince.  
  
Snape muttered a curse and held his bruised knuckles. "You agreed with that foolish plan!" he accused her with cold fury.  
  
Laurel settled back into the deep leather chair by the fire and warmed her feet. "I have no idea what you are talking about."  
  
"Dumbledore's plan to bring the two of us together."  
  
"What plan? Since when do we need a plan for that? Professor, I can always spend quality time with you in detention, can't I?"  
  
Ominous silence told her that she had hit a mark. She turned to him. "Listen, I don't understand where we are. And I don't see what makes you so upset. What exactly have they done but somehow moved us into this nice room?"  
  
"What they did? I'll show you what they did." He grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her up and out of the door. The corridor and staircases looked as always, Laurel even recognised some of the paintings.  
  
"So?" she asked.  
  
"Go on, try to find the hall!" he spit.  
  
He didn't have to tell her, she thought annoyed. After all no one could expect her to stay with this madman in the same room. 'Sorry Professor McGonagall, 'she muttered when she walked down the stairs, 'he may have been a shy boy but there is nothing left. Now he is just another overachieving bastard.' She opened the door at the foot of the staircase only to find herself in the same room again. Confused she shook her head.  
  
"But I …"  
  
"There is no way out." Snape gestured to the second chair. "You may as well sit down, as we shall spend a lot of time in this room."  
  
"This is a curse, isn't it?"  
  
His voice dripped with sarcasm when he answered. "You bet. They all work together, so there is no chance I can undo it. We are trapped until we do as Dumbledore wishes. But you brought us here in the first place! If you hadn't agreed to their plan, they would have never locked us up together."  
  
"I did not agree to anything," she tried to defend herself against his anger. "McGonagall said something about me placing you in grave danger and that all those freak accidents I have been involved in the last years were really pointed against you. And I said …" She swallowed hard when she recognised that she had indeed agree with some kind of plan. "I said I wanted this to stop and would help you make it stop."  
  
"These deceiving interfering old crooks!" Snape couldn't sit still. He had lost all his gravitates. "You think they are your friends but as soon as you turn your back they stab you with a poisoned dagger."  
  
"Listen, Professor," Laurel tried to calm him down. "Can't we just sit it out? After a while they will get tired of this game and let us out after a while."  
  
"You still think this is a game?" Snape went to the dark window. He stared out into the falling snow, down at the white peaceful yard that was out of his reach. "What have you learned about ties, Miss Hunter?"  
  
"Ties. Ties. Let me think." She tried to remember the lecture in Metaphysical Law.. "There are three basic kinds and one that overrules the three. Is that it?"  
  
He nodded but didn't look at her.  
  
"Blood, friendship, passion."  
  
"And love as the superior, the one tie that can replace all the others."  
  
Laurel pushed another log into the fire. "Sounds good to me. But what does it mean?"  
  
"Dumbledore thinks that you, your talents, your personality, your … heart …" he almost choked on the words, "can make up for my faults. That the two of us united will stand stronger than any of us alone."  
  
"He told me so, yes. It is all because of some evil guy called Waldemar."  
  
Snape winced and drew the curtains. He paced the small room, only too aware of the adjoining bedroom. "It's not Waldemar, it's … Never mind. You shouldn't say his name anyway. But believe me, Dumbledore is right about one thing. You-know-who is evil. Pure evil."  
  
"So we have to forge a tie to stand together against Wal…?" She coughed. "Against that evil guy. It shouldn't be so hard. We both cut our fingers and exchange some blood. I did that plenty of times when I was a kid and all of my bloodbrothers are still alive."  
  
He threw up his hands in honest desperation. "This is not Cowboys and Indians, Miss Hunter. People may die. In fact, people have already died - and very painfully - for not taking the threat seriously. The tie of blood only exists between family members. Parent and child. Brother and sister."  
  
"So it will be friendship then."  
  
Now his voice turned into dark velvet. "Friendship takes time. And trust. Do you trust me, Miss Hunter?"  
  
She thought about it and answered honestly. "I don't know. You do your best to appear as untouchable and venomous as possible. On the other hand Dumbledore trusts you."  
  
He blushed a little and did his best to disguise it. "Well, be assured I don't have many friends and for good reasons. And you wouldn't want to be locked up with me long enough to discover what those reasons are."  
  
"So what else is there? Oh!" She wished she could bite her tongue off. "Passion." Her voice was a mere whisper.  
  
"Clever little plan, isn't it?"  
  
"You think they want us to … to …" She couldn't believe it. "This is extortion."  
  
"If you like."  
  
"Ha! Dumbledore said I should work with you, not ..."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
  
  
They both sat silently for a few minutes.  
  
Laurel bit her lip, an old habit whenever she was doing a pros-and-cons- list in her head.  
  
Pro:  
  
He is sexy.  
  
Con:  
  
He is a real bastard most of the time and treats his students like dirt.  
  
Pro:  
  
He got a great body - at least I think so. Under that robe and cloak.  
  
Con:  
  
His hair.  
  
Pro:  
  
The things Dumbledore and McGonagall say about him.  
  
Con:  
  
The things everybody else says about him.  
  
Pro:  
  
He is smart and I like smart men.  
  
Con:  
  
He may be too smart for me.  
  
Pro:  
  
He is a wizard.  
  
Con:  
  
He is a wizard.  
  
Pro:  
  
I wanted him right from the start.  
  
Con:  
  
I might fall in love along the way but he won't.  
  
  
  
One hour later, when Snape had almost worn a hole in the carpet by pacing from the window to the fireplace, she rose her head and eyed him suspiciously. "So you say you can't undo the curse?  
  
"No. Not if they all support it."  
  
"And if we … if we go to bed together, they will let us out?"  
  
"I assume so."  
  
"But you'd rather rot in this cosy prison cell than touch me?" She rose impatiently and went to the fireplace. A brass poker leaned by the mantle and she used it to poke at the gleaming logs.  
  
"And you take this as an insult," he concluded somewhat surprised.  
  
"Should I not? Pray explain." She poked another log and the embers flew high.  
  
His forehead furrowed. Was she playing some elaborated game? He would never - never - forgive Dumbledore for this! With forced indifference he declared: "I am trying to spare you."  
  
"Spare me? From what?"  
  
"Contrary to what you seem to think of me I don't force women. I never have and never will. And this may be the only virtue I have left."  
  
"What in the world are you talking about, Snape?"  
  
"Don't tell me you'd come to me voluntarily."  
  
Laurel placed the poker where it belonged and turned to him. His eyes betrayed nothing. Could it be that he was so insensitive? Or self-centred?  
  
"Professor, I don't know much about your world. Apparently there is a war going on and I can only hope that you and Dumbledore are the good guys. That's part of the reason why I agreed to … this. But I would not be here had I not felt the attraction between us. Maybe it would do us good to get it out of our systems anyway. Burn the energy off, in a manner of speaking."  
  
"Do you think yourself in love with me, Miss Hunter?"  
  
His smile reminded her of a wolf stalking his prey.  
  
"What they want from us is not love, but … the other thing."  
  
"I doubt you could handle 'the other thing' without love," he replied dryly.  
  
Her eyes narrowed. "Love? If you can do without I can, too. I can take the truth. I know who I am. I am not your type? I can handle that. You are not mine either." She looked at him, half hidden in the shadows, the straight black hair, the dark eyes, the cynical mouth and she knew she was telling a screaming lie.  
  
"I still think you can't keep sex and love apart, Miss Hunter. Face the truth or the consequences."  
  
His low and threatening voice told her to be silent but her pride was hurt and her tongue faster than her thoughts.  
  
"I seriously doubt you'd know the truth if it poked you with a wand! To your students you are the Potions master, but to Dumbledore you seem to be some kind of secret agent. Who are you, Snape? Is there anybody at all behind the mask of the untouchable bastard?"  
  
"Be quiet." He gritted his teeth.  
  
"This is not your classroom, Professor!"  
  
Like a lightning bolt he got up and grabbed her arms, pushed her back against the wall until she winced. But he didn't let go. He stood very close, so close she could feel the fury pulse through his body. He smelled good, much better than she had expected considering that he spent most of his time in the dungeons amidst fumes and stenches.  
  
"Is this what you want?"  
  
He pressed his mouth onto hers, without tenderness. Her bottom lip started bleeding when he bit it. A flash of pure passion shook her but she managed to push him back just enough to turn her head. "Stop it!"  
  
"I asked you: Is this what you want?"  
  
"Let go! You are hurting me!"  
  
His hands fell off her arms in an instant. He shook like a sleepwalker who had been suddenly awoken. Laurel just stood there. Her heart thundered. There was no use in denying what she felt: She wanted him. Oh, she wanted him, but not like this.  
  
"We were talking about passion, not rape."  
  
"I apologise."  
  
"Listen," she ventured. "I don't enjoy pain. I know some women do, but I don't."  
  
She lifted a hand and lightly touched his cheek. He jerked. When she caressed his neck instead he took her hand and moved it away. "Now you are hurting me," he murmured almost inaudibly.  
  
"I didn't mean to."  
  
"It is not your fault. I … I'd rather not be touched."  
  
For a hundred heartbeats they simply stood there, just inches apart, both straining to catch their breath.  
  
He was the first to break the silence. "We can find a compromise, can't we?"  
  
"I suppose we can. No pain. No tenderness."  
  
"No love, no commitment. No guilt."  
  
"Something in between?"  
  
"Passion," he agreed. "Nothing else."  
  
"I don't want to cause you pain."  
  
"Just refrain from caressing me. Can you do that?"  
  
Laurel nodded thoughtfully.  
  
"You might get disappointed, though. I am not very good at it, anyway."  
  
He forced her to look at him. "Not very good, ah? I promise not to grade you."  
  
"Nobody ever complained," she stuttered and blushed. "It is nice, the warmth and all, and being close. But I really don't see what all the hype is about."  
  
"That, Miss Hunter, I may be able to show you."  
  
She kept her eyes open when he kissed her again, still not gentle and far from a caress but not as brutally as the first time. His gaze held her captive, pulled her towards him when his hands didn't yet touch her. When he lifted her up to carry her into the bedroom she broke the kiss.  
  
"What's your first name?" she asked breathlessly. "You don't expect me to call you Professor Snape in bed. Or do you?" It would be just like him, she mused.  
  
"Severus."  
  
"Severus." She repeated after him softly. 


	7. Scars and Dreams

7. Scars and Dreams  
  
  
  
She got a glimpse of the room, dimly lit with a low fire in the fireplace. A window. One of the big Hogwarts beds, four posters, soft mattresses, feather pillows. She smelled the fragrant burning firewood, and she smelled the scent of the man who carried her.  
  
"I can walk," she protested softly  
  
"I can't wait." His voice was mocking her and so was his mouth, brushing over her throat when he set her onto the bed.  
  
"Wand or hands?" he asked and left her puzzled.  
  
"Hands then," he decided and started to undo the fastening of her robe, slowly, one button after the other. Her arms went around him, fingers diving into his hair, pulling him closer, no soft strokes, no caresses, just holding on to him. His mouth fastened at her collarbone, not gentle, not soft, but hot, almost vicious. She fought for control.  
  
"Let go," he murmured. "Stop denying this to yourself." He was aching to have her. But her struggle to hold back challenged him at the same time.  
  
"I must not. I won't be able to stop ..."  
  
His mouth teased her and wandered freely.  
  
"Here, with me, you may. Nowhere else."  
  
His mouth had found her nipple, and cupped it, hot and wet. She shuddered with ecstasy when he began to suck it, slowly but without mercy.  
  
"I'll fall." She bit her lip in despair.  
  
"I'll catch you."  
  
Laurel could hardly hear him, her pulse thundering in her ears like a giant drum. And that was how she felt - like a drum, ready for his strokes, so tense it was almost painful.  
  
"Let go."  
  
He said it softly, breathing hard, sliding a finger down her body, over her navel, into her vagina, never fumbling, knowing exactly what he was doing. She was wet and ready. His hand took up the steady rhythm of his mouth on her breast. Her moans guided him, allowed him to take her from surprise to awe to helpless surrender.  
  
She felt herself slipping and reached for his wrist beneath her thighs. Pressing against his palm, his fingers, she felt a ball of heat explode and spread in hot waves all through her body. Gasping for breath she went limp but he wouldn't let go. Stroking her with his thumb, his fingers still deep inside her, he dragged her over until she lay on top of him.  
  
"Again. As many times as you need." His mouth covered hers, his tongue exploring every inch. This time she went smoothly, without stalling, completely trusting him. When she came, he shared her breath, her moans, her every thrust against his hand, his loins. Her eyes glazed over but held him captive.  
  
She reached for him again, but not for his hand. When she touched his painfully erect cock he gasped. Pushing her gently stroking hand aside, he rolled over her, spread her thighs and drove himself into her.  
  
He could see her eyes widen as he thrust deeper and deeper into her, her lips open in soundless moans. Arching under him, she took him in, welcoming him with wetness and warmth. One more time he stalled, let her come and held onto her so she wouldn't fall. Only then, when she was laying there, trembling and out of breath, he thrust into her forcefully and allowed himself release.  
  
When Laurel opened her eyes, it had to be early afternoon. Snow fell softly behind the frosted window. Something had woken her, some sound she wasn't familiar with. She sat up quickly.  
  
Severus had not stayed in bed with her after their encounter but settled into one of the deep chairs in the adjoining room. She knew without words that he couldn't stand the proximity of a shared bed.  
  
Barefoot, a blanket wrapped around her as a makeshift robe, she padded into the next room. The fire had burned down and cast a reddish shadow over the chairs and the man huddled under a plaid. At first she thought him sleeping but then she saw how his head turned restlessly, heard soft moans. She knelt down at his side and tried to remember what she knew about nightmares. Not much, only that you are not supposed to wake a dreamer. Or was that a sleepwalker? Snape fought an invisible adversary and muttered words she didn't understand. Cold sweat covered his forehead. His lips were even paler than usual.  
  
Finally Laurel couldn't watch him fight any longer. Gently she pushed his shoulder, aware that he might strike out against her when he woke up. Which was exactly what he did. She grabbed both his wrists and tried to calm him. "Sssh. Everything is fine. Severus, can you hear me? You had a dream, a nightmare."  
  
"Where am I?" he gasped.  
  
"You are home," she tried to calm him only to see his eyes widen in absolute terror.  
  
"Home?"  
  
"We are at Hogwarts. It was just a bad dream. It is over."  
  
He looked around as if he expected an attack any minute.  
  
Laurel stroked the black strands out of his eyes.  
  
"There is nobody here but you and me. Nobody can reach you here."  
  
His breath gradually slowed but his face remained without even the faintest hint of colour. When Laurel touched his hair again, he took her hand and looked at it as if he had never seen it before.  
  
"Nobody can hurt you," she repeated.  
  
'How very wrong you are,' he thought and sought oblivion in her embrace.  
  
She woke up and snuggled back into the pillows before she opened her eyes. The light was still dim but it had to be early morning this time. A shadow fell over her face and she almost jumped. Then she remembered last night and couldn't suppress a smug smile. No matter how detached and cool this man behaved in everyday life, he was neither in the bedroom.  
  
Severus stood in front of the fireplace, naked but for his pants and a sock. When he picked up his shirt and turned, she let out a startled cry. His bare back was covered with a web of scars, some only silvery lines, some pale welts of thickened skin.  
  
He turned in a graceful motion and starred at her.  
  
"What's wrong?"  
  
"Your back," she said, shaken.  
  
For a moment he went all icy and dangerous. She understood perfectly well why all the students were in awe of him and even most of the teachers avoided him.  
  
Then he continued to put on his shirt.  
  
"It is nothing of your concern."  
  
"Is that why you wouldn't let me touch you?"  
  
"You should get dressed. Maybe they'll let us go now."  
  
His voice didn't betray the uproar he felt. He was all confused and out of sync, didn't know what to make of this night. Shuddering inwardly he remembered the nights at Lucius Malfoy's house. Pumping music, potions and alcohol. Women who wouldn't be satisfied until blood was shed. Who throve on pain, on violence. But this night had been different. She had been different.  
  
Angry with himself he tied his robe and avoided to look at her.  
  
Laurel splashed her face with water from the washstand. The traces of old wounds on his back disturbed her greatly but not as much as his silence. They had just spent the most passionate night and he had made her feel in a way nobody ever had. Still - she knew she had no right to ask for any explanations.  
  
Snape stood by the window when she returned to the sitting room.  
  
She dug up all her courage but her voice still trembled when she spoke. "About last night. I … I didn't know it could be like this.  
  
His jaws clenched, he continued to stare out of the window.  
  
Bravely she continued, "It felt as if my body and soul were about to melt."  
  
"That's how it is supposed to be," he replied softly without looking at her. "Every time. Don't let anybody fool you."  
  
"I was so afraid ... to allow myself to let go. All my life I fought for control and now ..."  
  
He turned, his face in the shadows so she couldn't read his features. "This is the one situation when you do not need to control yourself. I'll be there to catch you when you fall."  
  
"Thank you," she tried to smile. "I know quite well that you did more for my pleasure than I did for yours."  
  
"No, it is I who has to thank you. For your courage."  
  
"Courage?"  
  
"For tying your fate to mine. This is not your war."  
  
"I am not so sure anymore." Her mouth had suddenly become very stubborn. "If somebody tries to kill me, I take it as a declaration of war."  
  
They stood at the door and hesitated. Laurel wasn't sure what she dreaded more- to find the circular corridor outside or the real one. She looked up and studied the Potions master's guarded face.  
  
"How do you feel?"  
  
His black eyes betrayed nothing. "What do you mean?"  
  
"It's just that you look … different."  
  
He sighed. "I slept."  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"I haven't had more than two hours of sleep a night since I …"  
  
"But you are the Potions master. It was you who told us there is a potion for every problem."  
  
"I did not. I said there was a potion to every end. As all magic this also follows the laws of balance. What ever you gain you pay back threefold. Love induced by a love potion will turn against you eventually. Find sleep with a sleep potion and after a while you won't sleep at all anymore."  
  
Not that he hadn't tried, he thought. After all he knew more about potions than anybody at Hogwarts. But all he had found was the desperate awareness of addiction. And that was the last thing he needed. It had taken him weeks to get off the stuff. So night after night he awoke in cold sweat and out of breath with terror. But not last night.  
  
"Last night I slept like a log."  
  
She smiled.  
  
"Shall we try it? Open the door?"  
  
"Wait." He placed a hand on hers on the door knob. "We need to talk. When we go out there, things will be different."  
  
Laurel pulled her hand back. She had seen it coming and was determined to get a head start out of this. "No need for excuses, OK? We just go our ways and pretend the last night never happened."  
  
Silence was the only answer. When she couldn't face the carpet anymore she looked up.  
  
"If this is what you want I shall not stand in your way," Snape replied casually. "But it is not what we need to talk about."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"You should remember that from now on there is a tie between the two of us."  
  
"Meaning exactly?"  
  
"A connection. Of what kind I am not sure. When I said I wanted to spare you I didn't only mean spare you my … attentions." His eyes grew darker than ever. "Being connected to me may put you in grave danger. I told Dumbledore but he wouldn't listen."  
  
"Whoever is out to kill me tries to hurt you. So I wouldn't be safe, tie or not. And let me remind you, Potions master, that I am not a kid. I take my own decisions. I slept with you because I wanted to."  
  
He acknowledged her statement with a bow of his head. "I'll protect you as much as I am able to."  
  
"And I'll ...," she was lost for words. "What can I offer you?"  
  
Snape cocked his head, his face as serious as she had never seen it before, angry yes, mocking yes, even disgusted, but not like this. "Your honesty."  
  
"My honesty?"  
  
"There'll be no ... lies ... between us. If I ever get lost in this maze of deceit and betrayal I'll need someone to remind me who I am."  
  
She answered without words, just by touching his arm ever so lightly. Then, taking a deep breath, she stepped away from him.  
  
"And now that we are … connected, may I borrow the murderous look you reserve for Harry? Any assassin will drop dead right on the spot when I look at him that way."  
  
"I should not think so. Do not take this lightly. It is not a joke."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Good. Because none of us may have the last laugh." He pointed his wand at the door. "Allohemora."  
  
The door flew open and outside the corridor was crowded with students on their way to breakfast.  
  
"You there, Finch-Fletchley!" Snape spat when a teenager with floppy hair ran past them. "Ten points from Hufflepuff for running. And get a haircut!"  
  
Laurel sighed. Welcome back to the real world.  
  
* * *  
  
"Where the hell have you been?" Serene was all upset.  
  
"I was sick. Food poisoning."  
  
"You didn't spend last night in your bed nor in the hospital! I checked."  
  
Laurel avoided her room mate's curious look by diving deep into her chest and rummaging for her book.  
  
"We'll be late for class." This usually sufficed to make Serene shut up and run, but not this time.  
  
"So what? I think I have right to know what you have been up to!"  
  
Laurel sat on her bed. "Do you? What exactly lets you think that? Face it, Serene, we are not best friends, we are not even friends. Why should I tell you anything?"  
  
"Because I worried about you."  
  
The two women starred at each other. Serene was the first to break the silence. "Listen, I know we are not close or anything. But I really worried about you. I thought you might have sneaked out to get away from Hogwarts. And Ben noticed that Dumbledore, Snape and McGonagall were not present at Dinner. So I assumed the teachers already knew you were on the run."  
  
Laurel shook her head. "I wasn't. I just … wanted some time by myself and asked Madame Pomfrey to send away any visitors." Last night, she thought by herself, was the first night she hadn't wasted a thought on running away.  
  
"I appreciate your concern." She gave Serene a hesitant smile. "Lets go now or we'll be late."  
  
* * *  
  
In the days that followed nobody could have assumed that Professor Snape and Miss Hunter had ever exchanged a handshake save passionate kisses. In class he treated her like any Non-Slytherin, she resorted to "yes, Sir" and "no, Sir" and they both took great care to never touch when he passed her a pestle or knife.  
  
Laurel caught Dumbledore's worried look at Dinner and gave him a reassuring smile. But the Headmaster could not be fooled. Snape had excused himself at Dinner again - allegedly he had to restock his supplies. And the girl - Dumbledore thought of all woman beneath McGonagall's age as girls - tried bravely to pretend nothing had happened at all. It amazed the old wizard that nobody in Hogwarts, not even his colleagues, seemed to notice the faint ray of light that connected Snape to the girl whenever they were in the same room. He doubted that even the two people concerned were aware of it.  
  
* * *  
  
After a week Serene eventually ceased to bother Laurel with questions.  
  
Thankfully Laurel did everything to keep it that way. At night she went to bed early and barricaded behind books and scrolls, while Serene did the same. One of the few advantages of being a mature student was the absence of a prefect who would tell them to do their reading in the common room.  
  
A sharp rap on the door made both women lower their books.  
  
Serene pursed her lips. "I bet it's Hermione Granger, again. So you take it!"  
  
"She helped me a lot with my spells lately."  
  
"She is just a nosy little brat," Serene spat. "And she is not as clever as her friends make her think she is."  
  
"My, are we merciless tonight!" Laurel muttered when she set the books aside and got up. It was so obvious. Serene envied Hermione. After all the girl had everything Serene had craved all her live.  
  
She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and padded barefoot to the door.  
  
When she opened it and recognised the nightly visitor she slipped out and pulled the door closed so quickly that Serene couldn't get a glimpse of the man outside.  
  
Laurel stood in the icy corridor and felt awkward.  
  
"I thought you wizards move through the castle by Floo? But then Serene would probably faint if you appeared in our bedroom at this ungodly hour. She has a soft spot for all things Slytherin, you must know."  
  
The words died away when she took a closer look at his face. Harsh on a good day, it was now tormented. She saw pain, deep creases, dark shadows under his eyes.  
  
"What's wrong?" Concern strained her voice. "Severus, is anything wrong?"  
  
He just stared at her, the wild hair, the checked pyjamas, the bare feet. The warmth she radiated. He was a fool to let her into his life or what passed for it lately.  
  
"Severus?" She laid a hand at his cold cheek.  
  
He surrendered.  
  
"The nightmares … I don't dare to fall asleep."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"I know I have no right to ask this of you, but …"  
  
He saw her shudder in the icy draft on the corridor and changed his mind. "Forget about it. Get back to bed before you catch your death."  
  
When he turned to return to his quarters down in the dungeons, she reached out and grabbed his sleeve. "If I go back inside to get my slippers, Serene won't let me leave again without a billion questions."  
  
His mind moved so slow it took him half a minute to understand. Then he swept her in his arms and carried her down the staircases to the dungeons.  
  
The paintings started to whisper frantically. Snape shot them a venomous glance. "There are potions which make a fine paint remover, you know," he remarked casually when he passed a particularly nosy framed countess. "So shut the hell up, will you."  
  
* * * 


	8. Decisions and Revelations

8. Decisions and Revelation  
  
  
  
Professor Lupin waited at the entrance of the Great Hall when the students left after breakfast the next day.  
  
"Miss Hunter."  
  
"I am sorry I missed your class last week, Professor," Laurel apologised. "How is the Boggart?"  
  
"He'll get over you, I guess." He looked at her from the corner of his eye and his nostrils widened. "How is Professor Snape?"  
  
She blushed but managed to hold her head up high and meet his eyes. "I trust he is fine. Why didn't you ask him yourself? You were both at the staff table at breakfast."  
  
"Sorry, I didn't mean to intrude," he said.  
  
Laurel shrugged. "Can I do something for you?"  
  
"I thought about your … problem."  
  
"My problem?" Frantically she went through the list of problems in a corner of her mind. What was he talking about? Sleeping with her teacher? Setting fire when she was angry? Being kept prisoner in a weird place amongst weird people? Serene's singing in the shower?  
  
"My problem," she repeated. "You mean that I am a fully grown witch who can't even tie her shoes magically?"  
  
"Why would anybody want to do that?" Remus smirked. "I was referring to your ghost blindness." He drew something out of his pocket and handed it to her. "I may have found something quite helpful for you."  
  
Laurel took the small notebook and flipped it open. The pages were white and empty. She looked at Lupin and furrowed her brows. "What is this?"  
  
"It's a ghost pad. I found it in a small shop in Diagon Alley where they sell all kind of stuff for handicapped wizards."  
  
"Nice. Well, I guess 'ghost blindness' as you call it, is some kind of handicap in your world." Again she opened the notebook and again the pages were white. "But how does it work?"  
  
"Let me show you." Excited he took her hand. "Just one question. How do you like Professor Binns' History classes?"  
  
Laurel tried to keep up with his long strides and once more realised how gracefully he moved. "I have no idea. With all those DADA classes and Potions and Transfiguration and Apparating I had no time to hear History. Dumbledore decided that it was less important, being just an academic class."  
  
"But aren't you some kind of History teacher yourself?" he asked curiously while they climbed the stairs to Binns' class.  
  
"I am a Historian, and I taught College for a while. But of course that was Muggle History. I wouldn't know anything about what went on in the wizarding past."  
  
"Well, I guess there are many connections. Just think about the great witch hunt. And Johann Grindelwald's defeat in 1945!"  
  
She shook her head. „Grindelwald?"  
  
„Never mind. I am sure, Dumbledore will tell you about that one day." He pointed at a door. "Here we are. Now, what I want you to do is go into this classroom and sit down at a desk in the back. Just watch what's going on."  
  
He opened the door and let her pass. While she took a seat, he went to the front of the room and stood there, his back to her. Laurel saw Gryffindors and Slytherins slumped at their chairs, half asleep. Even Hermione Granger was obviously bored. She read a book under her desk and only picked up her quill every once in a while to note something.  
  
When Lupin sat down next to Laurel, she whispered: "What is going on? Is this some kind of punishment?"  
  
Lupin smiled. "I am sure, the students who are not asleep already would agree with you. But no, this is History class."  
  
Her mouth open, she gaped at him. "You are joking."  
  
He pointed at the ghost pad he had given her. "Open it!"  
  
Reluctantly Laurel opened the little notebook. Where the pages had been all white they were now filled with words - words that seemed to be alive, flickering, moving over the page like neon letters.  
  
"What is this?" she whispered urgently.  
  
Remus pointed at the students. "What you read is what they hear. Professor Binns is a ghost. Since you can not see or hear ghosts, this thing will allow you to at least read their words."  
  
"Are you saying these kids are being taught by a ghost?"  
  
He shrugged. "Binns has been a ghost as long as I remember."  
  
She stared into the notebook. Apparently the class was listening to a long list of goblins who played a vital part in the goblin revolution of the 15. century.  
  
"This book will allow you to communicate with the ghosts even if you can not see them in person. If they have something important to say, they will open the notebook. We agreed on that. Even Peeves said he'd give you some slack. I wouldn't count on it though."  
  
They stayed until Professor Binns let the yawning students go. Walking down the corridor Lupin and Laurel discussed ghosts, goblins and gargoyles. As far as Remus had found out, ghost blindness was a common condition with muggle raised wizards. There was no remedy but by keeping an open mind the blindness should not affect her ability to see other creatures.  
  
"So if I hadn't been told as a child that there are no ghosts, I could see them?"  
  
"That's what they told me at St. Mungos' when I asked." Lupin smiled encouragingly. "Do you think you can handle it?"  
  
She smirked and put the ghost pad into her pocket. "I'll try."  
  
"Listen, Laurel," said Lupin and blushed. "I wanted to ask you ... Never mind."  
  
"You wanted to ask?" she encouraged him. Not about Severus, she prayed silently.  
  
"Your red-haired friend, Miss Kennedy." Lupin avoided her surprised gaze. "Did she say anything about me?"  
  
"No. But we are not really that close. I mean ...," she coughed embarrassed. "Would she have told me anything if we were close?"  
  
"No." He was as embarrassed as she. "I just got the impression that she can't stand me?"  
  
"I am really sorry. She never mentioned you. But Serene keeps pretty much to herself. Maybe you'd ask Ben."  
  
"Never mind," he silenced her hastily. I am afraid I am already late for my next class. Don't worry about the ghosts. You'll be fine."  
  
He ran off, taking two steps at once.  
  
When Laurel turned she saw Serene stand in the door of the Transfiguration class room. Her beautiful face flamed with anger.  
  
"What did I do now?" Laurel asked, almost scared by the furious look she got..  
  
Serene just stared at her.  
  
"Serene?"  
  
"So this is why you sneak out almost every night!" Flipping her red mane, Serene turned and slammed the door in Laurel's face.  
  
* * *  
  
The summer term seemed to go by like a fast train, day after day, until only a week was left until the Leaving Feast, which, according to the Gryffindors, was one of the main events of the year.  
  
Laurel closed her book and looked longingly out of the window towards the lake, where a fresh breeze rippling the water surface.  
  
She weighted the book in her hand for a moment, but her bag was heavy enough as it was. So "Men who love the moon too much" went back on the shelf. In the books Hermione had recommended, Laurel had found astonishing facts about Werewolves. Several of the descriptions she knew as parts of old legends, but the books in Hogwarts' library treated them as facts and supplied loads of documentation to any of them. The calendar she always carried with her showed the pattern of Professor Lupin's sick-leaves very clearly. Every month, the three days of the Full Moon ...  
  
She had talked to Severus about it but all she had got from him was a mocking sneer and a cutting remark.  
  
"Funny, how many women like to believe they'd fancy a werewolf. Of course they'd turn the poor bastard into a vegetarian, and cut his hair, and make him stop howling at the moon. But apart from that ..."  
  
"I am not fancying Remus Lupin," she had replied annoyed. And that was the bitter truth. This decent gentle man with his polite manners, warm eyes and soft demeanour did nothing for her at all. While Snape, black eyed, bitter, prickly Snape, made her tremble whenever he touched her - which was quite frequently and to their common satisfaction, as far as she could see. After almost six months of passion and physical unity he was still the most secretive man she knew, and he hardly would allow her to touch him. Why couldn't she fall in love with one of the nice guys for a change?  
  
When a dark shadow fell over her calendar, she looked up.  
  
"Severus."  
  
"Still after Lupin's dark secret?"  
  
"Would you rather have me dig up yours?"  
  
He starred at her, suddenly a stranger.  
  
"Don't," he said softly.  
  
"Sorry, I was joking."  
  
"Ha. Ha."  
  
"But you went to school with him," she tried again. "You should have recognised that he is always sick at the full moon. Didn't anybody ever ask questions?"  
  
Snape shrugged. "I really had better things to do at school than worry about Remus Lupin." His hand covered hers casually. "Dumbledore sends me. Are you ready for the Hearing?"  
  
Laurel's stomach sank. "The Hearing. Yeah, I am ready."  
  
The Ministry had sent three wizards who would check if she was fit to be released. Snape led her to a small room and told her to sit down and wait until the council and Dumbledore arrived. He had already closed the door behind him when he came back and in a very fast and almost awkward gesture kissed her forehead.  
  
"Don't worry."  
  
Then he left, and Laurel was all alone. Lightly touching the spot his lips had kissed, she closed her eyes. She wondered if Dumbledore had expected she'd fall in love with Snape when he asked her to "support" him. She knew it when she woke up at night and saw him sleep in the chair by the fire and longed to caress his face and didn't dare to. She knew it when she watched him at Potions, explaining strange ingredients, holding glass vials like other men would hold delicate flowers. She knew it in situations like just now, when he did not mind his own pain to make her feel better.  
  
The door opened and she looked up. But it wasn't Dumbledore or the Ministry wizards but Professor McGonagall. She took the chair next to Laurel and smiled thin-lipped. Despite her haughty demeanour Laurel had come to like the older witch through the last months. Worried she saw that her eyes were red rimmed and puffy.  
  
"Professor?" she asked. "What happened?"  
  
"I am sorry." The Transfiguration teacher blew her nose. "It is just that Remus is leaving us. I am being sentimental."  
  
"Lupin?" A cold hand grabbed Laurel's heart. „He is leaving? But why? Dumbledore told me he was an outstanding teacher."  
  
"Oh, he was," McGonagall agreed fiercely. "But the parents will not care about that. They'll cry 'Wolf!' without knowing Lupin."  
  
"Wolf?"  
  
"I thought you knew? That he is a Werewolf?"  
  
Laurel jumped up. Her head spun. She had known it, deep in her heart, and she had tried to prove it. And now the secret was out - and it might be her fault. She looked at McGonagall. "I need to see him before he leaves."  
  
"But Miss Hunter … the Hearing!"  
  
"I'll be back in time."  
  
She ran out of the room and slammed the door shut.  
  
Lupin's office was just around the corner. Laurel didn't bother to knock and rushed in, only to find him stacking books into a trunk methodically.  
  
He looked up and gave her a crooked smile. "Miss Hunter."  
  
She leaned against the door-frame. „You should have told me."  
  
"I might have, one day."  
  
"Why don't you stay? Dumbledore will not fire you for being a … Werewolf."  
  
Lupin rose and brushed his knees. "Dumbledore knew what I am from the start."  
  
"The man knows everything, doesn't he?"  
  
"I am leaving because Dumbledore has enough problems without me. And because as soon as the word spreads, dozens of furious parents will storm Hogwarts to save their precious kiddies from the clutches of the monster." He sighed and began folding his robes. "You suspected me, didn't you? I saw your book list in Madame Pierce's ledger."  
  
"It was my DADA teacher who taught me most things I know about Werewolves."  
  
Lupin laughed. "I should have kept talking about Redcaps and Vampires and skip Werewolves." His gaze grew serious. "But you wouldn't have told anybody, would you?"  
  
"No. Who did?"  
  
"Snape. He told the Slytherins and they told everyone."  
  
"Severus?" She felt as if he had punched her in the stomach. "But why would he do that?"  
  
Lupin's eyes narrowed and for a moment the wolf stared at her, an eerie, strange presence. "Did you know that I almost killed him, when we were boys? He walked in when I was changing."  
  
"And you would have eaten me with relish, wouldn't you, Lupin?" a cool voice asked behind them.  
  
Laurel turned slowly.  
  
Snape gazed at them, his features emotionless and like a mask, his eyes nothing but darkness.  
  
"The Hearing. They are waiting for you."  
  
She gritted her teeth.  
  
"You bastard," she whispered.  
  
He didn't flinch and Laurel was sure she had only imagined the sudden flicker of pain in his eyes.  
  
"You had to go and tell everybody, dindn't you? You ruined his life!"  
  
"Did I, Lupin?" he said softly.  
  
Remus reached the door with two strides and pushed Laurel out into the corridor. "I am sorry. I have to pack. I'll see you, Laurel."  
  
The door closed.  
  
Laurel stared at Severus. He stood so close she had to look up. "I can't believe you did that!"  
  
He turned and walked away from her, without an answer.  
  
She grabbed his sleeve and held him back. "Are you jealous? Is that it? Is that why?"  
  
For a moment he looked tired beyond words. "You have no idea what you are talking about."  
  
"Stop treating me like a stupid child!"  
  
"So don't behave like one!"  
  
Now they yelled at each other, careless about whoever might hear them.  
  
"Why did you do this to him?"  
  
"He is a Werewolf. All I did was uncover the truth." His eyes flashed in anger.  
  
Laurel's hand flew up and hit him across the face. Before she could do it again he caught her wrist and stopped her. "Don't you ever dare to hit me," he hissed.  
  
She trembled with anger, with desperation and with terror about what she had just done. All those months at Hogwarts, all the pain she had gone through to learn and keep her emotions restrained …  
  
Snape dropped her hand like a foul fruit. Without a further word or look he went away and left her standing.  
  
  
  
An hour later the council called her into the room to give their verdict. The three Ministry wizards and all the teachers sat on the circular table. Laurel sat down, her fingernails digging into her palms painfully. She had blown it. A look in Dumbledore's face was enough. Furious and upset about Severus she had stormed into the Hearing and had proved within minutes that she still constituted a danger to everybody around her. A simple Avis charm, that should produce a flock of pigeons, had backfired literally, when she saw Snape sitting at the table next to Dumbledore. Only McGonagall's fast reaction had prevented the long grey beard of on of the Ministry wizards from going up in flames.  
  
The oldest Ministry wizard cleared his throat.  
  
"Miss Hunter, we have agreed that you need more time to learn how to deal with the powers you possess. We intended to take you with us back to London to stay at a Ministry facility, but your teachers here are more than willing to vouch for you. You seem to be an excellent and diligent student. So we decided to send you to Beauxbatons Academy in France, where you will study the next two terms. Another Hearing will then decide about your future. Thank you."  
  
He stuffed his papers back into his file case and rose. "I am afraid we have to leave, Albus. Urgent Ministry business."  
  
Laurel sat there, stupefied, unable to grasp the meaning of his words. Send her to Beauxbatons? To France? For another year?  
  
Then her gaze fell at Severus and she felt a sharp stab of pain right through her heart. Had the students been right? Was he really evil and dark to the core? Had he betrayed Remus out of petty jealousy or revenge for a stupid student's prank?  
  
Maybe a change of surroundings was just what she needed. Away from him she would certainly learn to restrain the emotion that was the most dangerous: That she loved him.  
  
* * * 


	9. Back again

9. Back again  
  
15 months later.  
  
Laurel unpacked her trunk and the book cases she had brought with her from Beauxbatons. When all books had found a temporarily home, she looked around the room. It was strange to be back at Hogwarts and not share a room with Serene.  
  
She had not seen Snape yet. His chair had stayed empty during the Sorting and the feast, and nobody seemed to bother with an explanation. He had shown up in Beauxbatons several times, allegedly to deliver news about the Triwizard Tournament in person, and it had scared Laurel how deep the trench between them had become after the incident before the Hearing. They had spent those nights together, passionate nights, desperate and lost for words, and every time he had been gone in the morning without any promise to return. Still, his visits left her calm and steadied, but with growing guilt that she had not given him anything in return. Then, in late June, the visits had stopped and Severus had stayed away without an explanation. How would the relationship between the two of them continue, now that she was not his student anymore? Would it continue at all?  
  
Laurel felt unhappily how the anxiety made her even more nervous. She should have come back from France earlier, to allow time to settle in and work out a way to be in the same building with Severus night after night without betraying her love or going crazy with longing. But when she had been packed and ready to go, an owl from the Ministry to Madame Maxime had arrived and allowed Laurel to visit her family for three days, guarded by an Auror who pretended to be an exchange student. She had truly enjoyed the stay with her family, although it proved as hard to live without magic as it was to live with it.  
  
And now she was here, back at Hogwarts, on the morning of her first day as a teacher. Dumbledore would actually let her teach History!  
  
She remembered her surprise when he showed up at the breakfast room in Beauxbatons in May. She had been particularly unhappy then, insecure about Severus, anxious about her future, afraid of the next Hearing. Dumbledore's smile had melted over her tensions like warm honey.  
  
"Miss Hunter, I trust you are well. The Deputy Headmaster told me you are one of his best students."  
  
She blushed. Professor Longtemps taught History and was therefore biased about the few students who could tell a revolution from a riot.  
  
"Considering this and also keeping in mind your … situation," he smiled again and took a bowl of café latte gracefully, "I have come to offer you a position at Hogwarts."  
  
Laurel almost spit her coffee in the Headmaster' friendly face. "A position? As in teaching position?"  
  
"Indeed," he nodded and helped himself to another éclair.  
  
"But Headmaster, you and I know that I can hardly do more than the basic charms. What should I teach? Potions?"  
  
He smirked. "Severus would rather cut his hand of than allow somebody else to run his lab." Studying her anxious face he asked softly: "You haven't seen him for a while, have you?"  
  
She shook her head.  
  
"Be patient. It is my fault. Strange things are going on at the tournament and I need him there. He'd sooner die than admit he misses you, but he is in bad shape lately. That is another reason why I suggest you return to Hogwarts."  
  
"So what position are you talking about?"  
  
"As you know History is currently taught by Professor Binns. Excellent teacher in his time but unfortunately dead. Now, ghosts are stubborn and he won't be persuaded to retire. And I can hardly fire a wizard just for being dead."  
  
Laurel suppressed a chuckle. "No, I think you can't."  
  
"It took me some time to find a solution, since every other wizard would refuse to get into a teaching duel with Binns. Excellent wizard … but he can bore you to death."  
  
She saw his point. "Two teachers in the class room is not a good idea."  
  
The Headmaster beamed at her. "But what if one of the teachers does not see or hear the other?"  
  
"I understand. But I don't know enough about History of Magic. And I guess you don't want me to teach Muggle History."  
  
A shadow fell over the friendly face. "Teach them both. We are facing dreadful events, Miss Hunter. If History - magic or muggle - is forgotten, it will repeat itself over and over. I want the students to be aware of that."  
  
"But how are the students supposed to listen to two teachers talking at the same time?"  
  
He searched in his sleeves and finally produced a parchment scroll. "Thaddeus Flitwick and I came up with a list of charms that might prove helpful. You have four months to prepare, and you'd only teach first to third year. If it works out and you feel you can handle it, you'll have a full position at Hogwarts."  
  
She had signed the contract right after breakfast.  
  
  
  
Looking at the hour glass on her desk she hastily grabbed her robe and the books she would need, took the ghost pad and went to the class room.  
  
A bunch of second year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors awaited her and she led them into the room. From all she knew Professor Binns was always on time, so she assumed he was already there and calling roll. Yes, the students all looked into the empty space behind her back and rose their hands as called. Laurel moved to the table and placed her books and the ghost pad, Lupin had given her, on top. She could only hope she didn't sit on Binns. Checking the ghost pad she saw strings of words appear and disappear. Obviously he was talking about the Magic Charta. Well, so would she. Drawing the wand from her sleeve she muttered the spell Dumbledore had suggested. While Binns' words kept appearing on the ghost pad, the students looked up in surprise.  
  
"Is he still talking?" Laurel inquired.  
  
A blond girl with pig tails shook her head. "No, but his lips are moving."  
  
"Good." Laurel smiled at them. "I know this looks strange, but you will get used to it and not let Professor Binns distract you."  
  
Opening her book she took a deep breath. 'You can do this,' she encouraged herself. 'Remember, you have taught muggle graduates!'  
  
"Now, can anybody tell me, what a "Charta" is?"  
  
* * *  
  
Excited about her student's interest in History but relieved the first lesson was over, Laurel locked the classroom. Checking the hourglass she found that she had plenty of time to pick up some books from the library and change into less formal robes before lunch. But then she changed her mind and decided to face Severus. Get it over with now.  
  
A crowd of chattering fifth years passed her as she walked towards the dungeon. She recognised the Malfoy boy and Harry, thinner and paler than she remembered him. And when she turned, someone blocked her way. She looked up.  
  
"Severus."  
  
"Laurel." He greeted her with a polite bow of his head. "Dumbledore told me you were back."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So they let you teach now?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"And your friend Serene is an assistant to Professor Trelawney."  
  
"Yes."  
  
Exasperated he threw up his hands. "Yes? Is this all I get? I thought you were the talkative and I was the silent one?"  
  
Laurel bit her lip nervously. "I went to Provence this June."  
  
"Did you?"  
  
"I met Remus Lupin there."  
  
He remained silent, his features blank, his dark eyes as unreadable as ever.  
  
"He told me about how you brewed this potion for him, month after month."  
  
He shrugged. "I am the Potions master. Nobody else could do it."  
  
"He said he almost killed you when you were both at school, and you still helped him, providing the potion, even searching for one with less side- effects."  
  
"It was not Remus' fault. His friend Sirius wanted me dead and lured me into Remus' hiding place when he was about to change."  
  
Laurel took a deep breath. "He also told me that you wanted him to finally stand up and admit who he was."  
  
"Did I?"  
  
"When he didn't dare, when he kept hiding the truth out of fear, you took action."  
  
He rose a brow and gave her a mocking sneer. "I have been told I acted out of jealousy."  
  
Her heart fell. Tears welled up and she had to concentrate hard to keep her voice from breaking. "I should have known you better."  
  
"No." He cupped her chin and made her look at him. "You may have been right. I envied Remus. You and he had something I wanted, some kind of easygoing friendship I knew we would never have."  
  
He closed in, backing her against the wall. He had deluded himself when he had thought he could live without this. He needed her presence. He despised his weakness, but for the first time in months he wasn't cold. For the first time in months he didn't feel alone. His lips brushed her mouth, and Laurel's hands gripped the lapels of his robe. "On the other hand, we can have this …," kissing her eyelids, her temples, the pulse at her neck, "… if you still want me."  
  
Voices down the corridor made them jump. A class of first years poured out of a room and started to run towards the stairs, looking forward to spending an afternoon out on the grounds. When they saw the frowning Potions master, they stopped dead. Their eyes lowered, they walked by.  
  
Snape sneered. "I don't care if this is your first day. 10 points from Ravenclaw."  
  
Laurel laughed, almost dizzy with relief. He had forgiven her. "How about lunch?"  
  
He shook his head. "I have to talk to Professor Sprout about some saplings I'll need."  
  
"Oh." Her disappointed smile made his heart ache.  
  
"But if you want we can meet on the hill at the lake in about an hour."  
  
"And have a picnic?"  
  
"A picnic?"  
  
"A picnic. Food and sunshine?"  
  
"You mean, ants and sunburn?"  
  
His grin mocked her but she didn't care. The pure joy that filled her felt like champagne bubbling in her veins. She was back at Hogwarts, and she'd be fine.  
  
* * * 


	10. The Dark Mark

10. The Dark Mark  
  
  
  
Unfortunately her happiness did not last too long. Snape had disappeared down the corridor when Laurel heard a soft sound through the door of the Potions class room.  
  
She opened the door and found Neville Longbottom kneeling on the floor, scraping up something that looked like greenish jelly from the stones. Hermione Granger, hunched on her heels, was talking softly to him.  
  
"Neville, I am sure Trevor didn't feel anything."  
  
Neville shook his head vigorously. "Did you see him stare at Snape? He knew, Mione! He knew!"  
  
Laurel stepped closer. "What is going on?"  
  
Hermione and Neville both gave a start. The girl looked at Laurel with a mix of anger and relief. "Laurel! I mean, Miss Hunter." She blushed. "It is strange, having you as a teacher and all."  
  
"You tell me," Laurel sighed. Taking in Neville's tear streaked face and puffy eyes and the green glibber he held, she sat on a desk.  
  
"Professor Snape killed Trevor," Hermione accused.  
  
"Trevor?"  
  
"Neville's toad. He made him drink Neville's Engorgement Potion."  
  
Neville sniffed and looked down at Trevor's sorry remains. "He knew I got it wrong again. Too much blowfish bile."  
  
"So Trevor grew … and grew," Hermione said with a pitiful look at Neville. "And finally he exploded."  
  
"Trevor was just a toad," Neville tried to be brave. "But he was a very nice toad. He did not deserve this."  
  
Laurel clenched her fists. "Professor Snape knew your potion was too strong and still tested it on Trevor?" she repeated with a strained voice.  
  
Hermione nodded furiously. "He did it on purpose, to torture Neville! He can be such a jerk!" Her hand flew to her mouth. "I am sorry, Miss Hunter, I didn't mean …"  
  
"Oh yes, you meant it," Laurel hissed. "And so do I."  
  
  
  
Laurel's broom stuttered and stalled when she slowed at the foot of the hill which rose gracefully between the lake and the Forbidden Forest. She wasn't even sure if Severus had kept their date. He probably sat in the dungeons and invented another potion to torture some poor kid. The broom went down and died four foot over the ground. Impatiently she jumped off and kicked the handle.  
  
Snape, leaning against the trunk of an ancient oak, winced. "No wonder your broom fails you if you treat it like this."  
  
"I don't care," she snapped. "People are not made to ride brooms. They ride aeroplanes. And busses. And cars."  
  
"Wizards ride brooms. If they can't Apparate, that is."  
  
His arrogant voice made her want to punch him. Hard. And still, the anger didn't stop her heart from jumping at the sight of him, the curtain of black hair, the strong features, the lean, angular body.  
  
Severus rose a brow. "It is not like you to kick an innocent object, when it is really me you want to kick."  
  
"So you agree that you deserve a kick?"  
  
"Is this about Lupin? Again?"  
  
Laurel gritted her teeth in frustration. "No, it is not."  
  
"Good."  
  
"It is about Neville Longbottom."  
  
Snape rolled his eyes exasperatedly. Would she ever stop criticising his teaching methods? Would he ever be good enough in her eyes? And why did he give a damn about what she thought about him?  
  
"Mr. Longbottom. I see. What about him?"  
  
"Are you planing to scare him to death one of these days?"  
  
He patted the ground next to him. "Why don't you sit down and have something to eat and yell at me afterwards?"  
  
Laurel sat down, but only to shake her head vigorously when he offered her one of the sandwiches the house-elves had provided him with. "I am not hungry, thank you."  
  
"This … picnic," he gestured at the basket at his feet and the folded blanket, "was your idea, Miss Hunter."  
  
"I lost my appetite when I saw what you did to Trevor."  
  
"Who for Merlin's sake is Trevor?"  
  
"Neville's toad."  
  
"Would you rather have me feed Longbottom his faulty potions himself?"  
  
"He is afraid of you, Severus! If you keep yelling at him like this, one day he'll …"  
  
"One day he'll take a stand and yell back. And he'll never be afraid again."  
  
He said it flatly and without emotion.  
  
"You were trying to make him stand up for himself? Like you tried with Lupin?"  
  
His gaze didn't waver. "And again, I failed."  
  
Her anger evaporated. She hugged her knees and looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You know," she said slowly, "I can't see through you."  
  
"You don't seriously expect me to be worried about that, do you?"  
  
"I see myself very clearly," she continued without paying attention to his sarcasm. "And I am quite good at that, sizing up people. Only here at Hogwarts nothing and nobody is what they appear to be."  
  
Snape saw her sucking her bottom lip. She seemed to be in deep distress. He kneeled next to her and held out his hand. "Let's go for a walk."  
  
  
  
Silently they walked up the low slope until they reached the top of the hill. Fall had come early, turning bushes and trees into a whirl of colours. From their elevated stand they could see the giant squid do lazy backstrokes in the lake.  
  
"I apologise." Laurel said it softly when Snape pointed out the boundaries of Hogwarts.  
  
His head jerked. "You what?"  
  
"I apologise for yelling at you. I was angry and …"  
  
He waited patiently.  
  
"I should have known better. I should have asked for your reasons before I judged you."  
  
"Did you really think I was just cruel?" He didn't intend it but his voice sounded bitter.  
  
"I was afraid you enjoyed bullying Neville."  
  
"Well, I do not."  
  
"Good."  
  
"Can we drop the subject now? I am not a patient man, as you well know, and you are trying me sorely today."  
  
"Will you stop scaring Neville?"  
  
"No. Not until he digs up some courage."  
  
"Not everybody is like you, Severus."  
  
A fierce pain shot through his forearm. Snape winced. Not right now!  
  
"What are you trying to say?" he managed.  
  
Laurel looked at him, suddenly recognising the cold sweat on his forehead.  
  
"Are you OK?"  
  
"What did you mean, like me?"  
  
Her eyes never left his. She'd take him back to see Madame Pomfrey any minute, she swore to herself. He didn't look well at all.  
  
"You think you can stand alone," she said softly.  
  
He tried to say something, but the pain in his arm took his breath away. His face, always sallow, had turned ashen.  
  
"You don't need anybody, you can survive on your own. But others crave friends, love, support. Neville lost his parents. So did Harry. "  
  
"That is no excuse. Potter keeps breaking the rules! And I shall not have it. Is that so hard to understand, Laurel?"  
  
She crossed her arms, angry and worried at the same time..  
  
"You broke every rule there is, you … moron! As far as I know you invented and perfected Rulebreaking!"  
  
He forgot to breath. White hot anger almost choked him. His right hand seized his left forearm and convulsively rubbed it. "I am paying for it!" he suddenly roared. "I'll pay for it until I die!" Grabbing the sleeve of his robe, he tore the black material up until it revealed a black skull on his arm - not merely a tattoo as Laurel thought at first glance - but something much nastier, something - alive. A snake was slithering through the empty eyesockets of the grinning skull. She watched it for a moment, fascinated and repulsed at the same time.  
  
"What … what is that?"  
  
"The Dark Mark. This is what you get if you break the rules." He closed his eyes and held the mark again, as if it caused great pain. "If you are unfortunate enough to survive."  
  
"I have never seen it before."  
  
"It only appears when Voldemort calls his faithful servants. I want you to go to Dumbledore. Now."  
  
"Calling you? Why would he …"  
  
He gasped. "Laurel, I have no time for explanations. For once in your live, do what I tell you!"  
  
She saw him flicker.  
  
"What is happening?"  
  
„I am Apparating out of here. Got to … See Dumbledore," he mouthed. "Follow his advice."  
  
"You can't Apparate from Hogwarts! It can not be done from the school grounds."  
  
"Watch me."  
  
"Severus?"  
  
He vanished.  
  
* * *  
  
Dumbledore nodded towards a cushioned chair. "Ah, Miss Hunter. I have been expecting you. Allow me one moment to finish this," he said and kept combing Fawkes. The big scarlet-golden bird was cooing in ecstasy.  
  
"Why don't you make us some tea? Grooming Fawkes always makes my throat dry."  
  
Laurel jumped. She had been starring at the pictures in the circular room where dozens of former Headmasters snored.  
  
"Oh, OK." She looked around but could see neither kettle nor cups. One of the Headmasters next to the door opened his eyes and winked at her. When she frowned, he drew the wand from his sleeve and waved it suggestively. Laurel blushed. "Of course. I am supposed to do it with the wand."  
  
She could see the page from "A Beginner's Guide to Kitchen Spells" before her inner eye. The witch in the book made it look so easy. Under the watchful eyes of several Headmasters she searched for her wand which tended to get lost in her sleeve. How did they all do it?  
  
"Simple Burdock charm," Dumbledore said as if to Fawkes who lazily opened an eye. "Keeps the wand where it is supposed to be."  
  
Laurel pointed at the carved side table and concentrated. A large tray appeared out of thin air, with a plate of cauldron cakes, a jug of milk, two thin china cups and a steaming … fish. The Headmasters in their golden frames shook with silent laughter. Laurel let the fish vanish very fast and tried again. She got closer this time, but a flowerpot wouldn't do either. Her fifth attempt and the united effort of Headmasters from four centuries eventually produced a perfect teapot. A faint scent of caramel filled the room.  
  
When Dumbledore put down the comb, Fawkes gave Laurel an offended look but settled down at the armrest of her chair. She offered the Headmaster a cup of tea and perched at the edge of the chair, ready to jump. The anxiety she had felt since Snape had Apparated without an explanation made her restless.  
  
Dumbledore sat down next to her, chose one of the cakes from the platter and took a sip of tea.  
  
"Very nice, this tea, my dear. Now, what else shall we do to distract you while Severus is away?"  
  
"Distract me?" she stared at him blankly.  
  
"You worry about him too much."  
  
"How could he Apparate out of Hogwarts?" she asked, still confused. "I thought there was a magical barrier that prevented everyone from Apparating in and out?"  
  
"At least some of the students pay attention at class," Dumbledore smiled. "You are right of course. But where there is a lock, there will be a key. Severus can come and go as he pleases."  
  
"Because you gave him the key."  
  
"That's right."  
  
"Because he is your spy. What if they find out about him?"  
  
"Let us not even think about that."  
  
Laurel couldn't suppress a sob.  
  
"He is a master of deceit," she tried to calm herself.  
  
"He is." Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Severus is under great pressure right now, in the middle of terror and evil. Because of the tie you shall feel the need to support him spiritually. But he must be at Voldemort's without a trace of you. Do not reach out for him. Believe me, as the Dementors can smell despair, so can Voldemort. Any emotion. All Severus is supposed to feel is naked fear in the presence of the Dark Lord. Not reassurance, not warmth, not hope. It would only betray him."  
  
"But you said earlier I was to support him? How am I supposed to do that?"  
  
"Not while he is there. At Voldemort's court he is on his own. But when he is back …"  
  
"He'll be back. Soon, won't he?" she begged for reassurance.  
  
"I do hope so. Usually it takes but a few hours, not long enough to make anybody suspicious about the Death Eaters' absence. But for Severus it will feel like days have passed. When he returns he'll need you."  
  
She forced herself to relax, and hesitantly sipped her tea. It was hard to wrench her thoughts away from the dark fear in the back of her mind. The old wizard watched her lean back and breath carefully and disciplined. He smiled.  
  
"You have learned a great deal since you came to Hogwarts School, Miss Hunter. Two years ago you would have set fire by now because your emotions would have overwhelmed you."  
  
"It is Severus," she replied with a crooked smile. "Somehow I can borrow his discipline, his restraint, if I need it."  
  
"Like he can borrow your emotions, your warmth. The tie, you see? It was supposed to strengthen both of you in the areas you lacked. And it did." With a swift motion he changed the subject. "Now, tell me about your first day on the other side of the desk. How did it go?"  
  
She smiled at him. "Not too bad. The Silencing Spell seemed to work. Not that I could tell since I can not hear Binns anyway. The students needed some time to adapt, though."  
  
"They'll learn to survive without the extra hour of sleep Professor Binns' classes offered."  
  
A faint crackle in the air alarmed Dumbledore. He cocked his head. "Severus is back, I assume."  
  
Laurel sat up. The conversation with the gentle wise wizard had not only distracted her but let her forget about the danger Snape was currently in. Now the anxiety returned even more forcefully.  
  
Out of nowhere a figure Apparated in the middle of the room. Snape stood for a few seconds with his eyes wide open. Then he tumbled and fell to his knees.  
  
Dumpledore bent down to him and studied his eyes. "Who am I, Severus?" His voice was gentle but steely.  
  
Laurel bit her lips. "What's wrong with him?"  
  
"The Dark Lord's presence can erase any memory, much like the Dementors' kiss. All that remains is an empty shell."  
  
"You are Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts," Snape replied softly. His voice croaked as if he had spent the last hours screaming from the top of his lungs. "You have cake icing in your beard."  
  
"He is fine." Dumbledore smiled reassuringly and stepped behind his desk. "Is there anything that needs my immediate attention, Severus?"  
  
"No."  
  
"You can report tomorrow. I suggest, Miss Hunter, you take care of him now."  
  
"I don't need anybody to take care of me," protested Snape faintly and tried to stand up.  
  
"Of course, you don't," nodded the Headmaster.  
  
"I am fine."  
  
Laurel reached out to support him when he tumbled.  
  
The old wizard rose his busy eyebrows. "Perfectly fine, Severus." He went to the fireplace and opened a jar with Floo dust. A sprinkle let the flames turn green. "Off you go, both of you."  
  
A moment later they stumbled out of the fireplace in Snape's quarters.  
  
He insisted in washing his face and hands without assistance but did not put up too much of a fight when she helped him to change out of his robes into a loose shirt and pyjama pants.  
  
Worried, Laurel watched him close his eyes repeatedly, then shake his head forcefully as if to clear his mind. His hand was clamped around one of the wooden posters of the huge bed.  
  
A loud knock at the door made her turn. When she opened, Franny, one of the house-elves, stumbled in, balancing a heavy tray stacked with bowls and plates.  
  
"Franny brings the Potions master to eat, best things found in the kitchen, Franny does."  
  
"Thank you, Franny. That was very thoughtful of you." She took the tray from the beaming elf's hands.  
  
Severus looked at the food. "I don't know if I can eat this."  
  
"When was the last time you ate?"  
  
"I don't remember … Days ago?"  
  
She smiled and set the tray on the floor in front of the fireplace. "You should really get another chair and maybe a table."  
  
"I got all the furniture I need."  
  
"A bed?"  
  
"You never complained about the bed. Do you really want to do it on a table?"  
  
She looked up and saw the sarcastic smile, and breathed out in relief. If he was up to snide remarks, he had to be all right.  
  
"I thought we might extend our relationship from picnic to dinner."  
  
"Why?"  
  
She put the silverware down and stood up. "I am not comfortable with all these lies. But I understand that they are necessary. I'd just like to spend some time with you."  
  
He looked at her, his eyes investigating her face for any signs of ridicule. Then he sighed.  
  
"I am sorry I put you through this. The deceit. The danger."  
  
"You never promised me anything else. I knew what I agreed with."  
  
"We could have tea in here every other day. If you like."  
  
She smiled, and the warmth that radiated from her made him dizzy. After a moment of silence she moved the chair closer to the fireplace.  
  
"Try to eat something, Severus. You need to replenish your resources. You look like a ghost."  
  
"You would not see me then, would you?"  
  
"True. You look worse than a ghost."  
  
"I am fine."  
  
"Headmaster Dumbledore advised me to feed you, distract you and make sure you slept, so that's what I am going to do."  
  
He sneered. "I am not your patient, Miss Hunter."  
  
"Just once, Severus, do as you are told. Eat!"  
  
He pointed his wand at the fireplace and cast "Ignite!". A crackling fire appeared out of nowhere. Then, still scowling, he sat down on the floor. After a few cautious bites he suddenly started to wolfe down meat and potatoes like the starving wizard he was.  
  
Laurel watched him from the bed. She assumed that soon after the meal he would fall asleep from exhaustion. So all she had to do was distract him for half an hour or so, and then get him into bed and tuck him in.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
He looked up, swallowing.  
  
"Do you remember our … our …"  
  
"Our fight, before I Apparated?"  
  
"We didn't fight."  
  
His eyes held her captive. "If we didn't fight, what was it we did?"  
  
"We had a discussion."  
  
"You called me a moron."  
  
"Because you behaved like one."  
  
"Ah." He tore off a piece of bread. "What will you call me if we ever had a fight?"  
  
"Believe me, you don't want to know."  
  
"Remind me, what exactly made me a moron?"  
  
"The way you treat your students. I am serious about this. Neville Longbottom almost dies from fear whenever you look at him, and I can understand why."  
  
"I never look at you that way."  
  
"Lucky me, then! I am not a kid, Severus, and even I was scared when you yelled at me that first evening at detention!"  
  
His thoughts flashed back to the moment when he recognised that what he really wanted was to pull her into his arms and kiss her. Instead he had yelled at her and called her irresponsible. What's a wizard to do?  
  
"And that poor girl from Hufflepuff, Emily something."  
  
"Shanks. Emily Shanks. She could be Longbottom's twin."  
  
"She petrifies when you enter the class room. She is quite clever and really sweet in all her other classes."  
  
"I don't expect my students to be sweet. I expect them to not blow up the classroom."  
  
"And Harry. He is not stupid, not clumsy. Why do you hate him so much?"  
  
She poured two goblets of wine and passed him one.  
  
„I don't hate Harry. He just reminds me of James in the most annoying way."  
  
"James?"  
  
"James Potter, his father." He took a sip of wine and sighed. "We were both students at the same time. Of course he was in Gryffindor and I in Slytherin."  
  
"Were you friends?"  
  
Snape rose a dark brow. "I just said that he was a Gryffindor, didn't I?"  
  
"So?"  
  
Impatiently he swiped her question away. "No, James and I were never friends. He and his merry band made my life hell whenever they could. And I hated them from the bottom of my heart."  
  
"You can't blame the boy for what his father did to you, Severus. By the way - what exactly did James do to make you hate him even sixteen years after his death?"  
  
"He saved my life."  
  
She stared at him, kneeling in front of the fire, warming his hands.  
  
"That was … really mean?" She tried to joke, but there was no sign of a smile, not even the twitch in the corner of his mouth that had become so familiar.  
  
"I owe James, and can never pay him back. He got himself killed and left me with the obligation to protect the boy. And Harry is just like his damned father, as arrogant, as vain, as thoughtless."  
  
Laurel sat down in the low chair next to the fireplace and let him talk. After a while he leaned back until his head rested against her knee, a position they both liked.  
  
"And just like James he is going to get himself killed one of these days. There are no rules for the Potters, and they never think about the damage their foolheaded bravery does to others."  
  
"He is only a boy, Severus."  
  
"He is not. He is the boy who lived. That is his fate. He has no time for trial and error like other kids. His errors will get him killed, like his father."  
  
He closed his eyes and was only too conscious of her hands stroking his hair, carefully avoiding to touch his face. "I am his teacher and I make him follow the rules. He hates me for that. So what? If I get him through this war alive my dept will be settled. Let them all hate me if they only survive."  
  
"I see."  
  
"That goes especially for mature students turned teacher."  
  
Her hand found the back of his neck and he had to fight a moan of pleasure.  
  
"But I always follow the rules, Professor!"  
  
He smirked. "Sure."  
  
"Even now, I am only here with the explicit permission of Headmaster Dumbledore."  
  
"If it wasn't so I'd send you right back to your bedroom."  
  
Now it was her time to chuckle. "You are really tough, Potions master. But you must admit you are biased in a horrible way. You take points from each house except your precious little snakes."  
  
He looked at her, eyes hard like black stones. "Precious. Yes. They are, if only to me."  
  
She fought for understanding.  
  
He sneered and turned his face towards the fire. The warmth relaxed him as did her hand that had wandered down his neck to his shoulders, casually massaging the knots in his muscles. "The Hat doesn't Sort students into Slytherin for no reason. They are the scarred, the unwanted, very often the abused. They crave power because they need it to survive. Before Hogwarts, many of them never knew how it felt if someone was on their side. Unconditionally. No matter what."  
  
"Even if this means to treat other students unfair?"  
  
"Even then. Especially then." He let his head sink back. "Don't you see it makes all the difference?"  
  
She slowly rose her hand and touched his jaw. For a short moment he indulged in her touch and closed his eyes. Out of experience she knew better than caressing him, but just let her hand where it was.  
  
"And you say you don't love, Severus."  
  
"I don't." His voice was harsh.  
  
"So pray tell me what is love? If not what you give your house?"  
  
"I give them what I would have needed when I was a student in Slytherin."  
  
Laurel found the restraint in his face almost unbearable. How did he manage to live with all this sadness in him and yet appear so cold and in control?  
  
"You ought to sleep," she whispered. Her voice cracked and she hid the emotion behind a cough. "Dumbledore told me to make sure you slept."  
  
He seized both her wrists and pulled her down to him on the carpet in front of the fire where she found herself in a tight embrace, his face buried in her hair. "I am glad you are back. I should have told you before."  
  
"Severus?" she asked softly after a while, not sure whether he was still awake or fast asleep.  
  
When he mumbled something unintelligible she said: "How was it? There?"  
  
"It was bad."  
  
He cradled her in his arms like a child would hold a favourite doll, his body wrapped around hers like a coat, a shield, and the last thought she could clearly grasp before she fell asleep, too, was that it should be her to hold him, and he the one to be held.  
  
* * * 


	11. A Subtle Art

11, A Subtle Art  
  
  
  
Laurel looked at the parcel in her hand and sighed. Hesitantly she knocked at the trapdoor of Professor Trelawney's class room.  
  
"Come in, my dear," a faint voice called.  
  
When Laurel had climbed into the circular room, she remembered the few hours she had spent in Sybill's class. It was incredibly hot in the room and a sickening sweet smell filled the air.  
  
"Oh, it is you, Laurel," said Professor Trelawney from her armchair and laid another card on the table. "But I knew that, of course."  
  
"I don't want to disturb you, Professor," Laurel said politely. Not only did she not like the witch very much, she was also sure that the Divinations teacher was nothing but a fraud. After all, even Dumbledore admitted that she had only got two predictions right so far.  
  
"I am looking for Serene."  
  
"I knew that," Sybill replied slightly hurt. "She is at the solar, practising with the new crystal balls we got from Marrakech."  
  
Laurel climbed another ladder and found herself in a much more pleasant room, airy, cool and filled with sunlight.  
  
Serene sat on the floor on a pillow, her legs crossed, a crystal ball in her hands. 'She has never looked so beautiful,' thought Laurel free from envy. 'Does every woman feel as plain in her presence as I do?'  
  
When she approached, Serene turned her head. "Laurel."  
  
"Don't say you knew it was me."  
  
Serene gave her a rare smile. "So you are back."  
  
Laurel sat on a window sill and put the parcel next to her. "Isn't it strange how we both came to Hogwarts as students only a year ago, and are now teaching?"  
  
"I am not teaching Divination, I only assist Sybill in finding her teacups and tarot cards and other stuff she keeps misplacing. I doubt Divination can be taught at all. It is not an art, more a curse." Her voice sounded bitter.  
  
"What ever happened to Ben? I have not seen him yet."  
  
"He should have returned from his holidays by now. Dumbledore offered him to stay in Hogwarts as well, take a few electives for advanced students."  
  
Laurel nodded.  
  
Serene put the crystal ball back into its case. She stood up and brushed the glorious mane of red hair out of her face. Her green eyes flashed when she turned to Laurel. "You bring news from Lupin, don't you?"  
  
Taken by surprise, Laurel stared at her. "How did you know?"  
  
"Saw it in the crystal ball," Serene snapped. Then she smirked. "Don't tell Sybill though."  
  
"Actually you are right. I met him on a class trip with the Beauxbatons girls. He worked in a zoo in Provence."  
  
"A … zoo."  
  
"He said it was ok. Said if it had to be the zoo, at least he was the one with the keys. He sends you this." She passed Serene the small package.  
  
Serene stared at it with a strange mixture of longing and anger. Then she pushed Laurel's hand away. "I don't want it."  
  
"But … it is for you," Laurel shook her head in disbelieve, "what am I supposed to do with it?"  
  
"Give it back to him when you see him the next time."  
  
Laurel stood up, quite annoyed with Serene's behaviour. "He is in Provence. I don't know if I ever see him again."  
  
Serene opened the door with a flick of her wand. "You'll see him soon. I am sorry, Laurel, but I am very busy. Thank you for your visit."  
  
The door closed.  
  
Laurel stood on the stairs, unbelieving how fast she had been dismissed. "And don't come back," she hissed.  
  
The package in her hand she returned to her room. Serene had never been too friendly with her, but at least she had been polite. What bugged Laurel the most, was that she seemed to have misjudged Serene's feelings where Remus was concerned. Today she had made it quite clear she was not interested.  
  
She weighted Remus' gift in her hand for a long time. Then she made up her mind and opened it. It contained a beautiful set of hand-painted tarot cards. All the pictures moved, the Queen of Swords smiled and sharpened her blade, the Hanged Man swung gently on his gallows. The backside of all the cards showed the moon.  
  
"Ah, Remus," Laurel sighed and wrapped the tarot pack carefully. "We are very much alike. We both love somebody way out of our reach."  
  
* * *  
  
"Professor Hunter?"  
  
Laurel looked up from her book.  
  
"Hi, Emily," she said friendly. "What can I do for you?"  
  
Emily Shanks twisted her plait with one hand and blushed a little. "Professor Snape told me to tell you … to ask you …"  
  
Laurel waited patiently.  
  
"To ask you to come down to the lab, if you are free this afternoon." Beaming, Emily breathed out in relief. Terrified by Snape's stern look, she had repeated the message all the way from the Great Hall to the library so she would not get it wrong.  
  
Laurel thanked her, awarded Hufflepuff five points for prompt delivery and sent her off to the common room.  
  
It was only the first week of October, she thought when she passed the Great Hall and saw the Enchanted Ceiling covered with black clouds and thriving rain. But teaching at Hogwarts felt as natural as if she had never taught at a "normal" school before. Her year as a student had certainly helped - otherwise she'd hardly been prepared for Cheating spells and Enchanted quills. On the other hand - kids would be kids, Muggle or Wizard.  
  
The corridor that led to the dungeons was dimly lit. The torches on the walls flickered in the draught. The door to the lab where Snape worked was closed, and Laurel knew better than entering without permission since the safety spell had knocked her back against the wall the one time she had tried. After all there were all kinds of poisonous and otherwise dangerous ingredients in the chests and shelves. Gingerly she knocked and opened when Snape answered.  
  
Studying something on the marble surface of one of the workbenches he rose one hand.  
  
"One moment, I just have to finish this."  
  
Laurel watched him cut some root into thin slices. He was all concentration, oblivious to everything but the substance on his cutting board and the knife. Carefully moving the slices one by one into a glass jar filled with a clear liquid he reminded her of an artist. But he looked exhausted and tired. The last weeks with frequent callings had taken their toll. She had tried to assure that he ate and slept enough, but his face was more gaunt and drawn than ever.  
  
Removing the dragon hide gloves, he looked up and gave her the ghost of a smile. "Manchurian Ginger," he pointed at the jars. "It took Daisy Sprout years to cultivate it."  
  
Laurel stepped closer and looked into the jars. The slices looked like common radish but smelled like cinnamon. "What do you need them for?" she asked. "More toad explosive?"  
  
He sneered. "One of these roots is more expensive than all the toads in England. And they come cheap compared to the dew they must soak in. This is nothing for the Neville Longbottoms of Hogwarts to mess with. I need it to concoct Veritaserum."  
  
"Veritaserum?" she tried to remember.  
  
"Oh come on, Laurel!" Snape shook his head. "Did you ever pay any attention to what I told you in class?"  
  
"A clear liquid which will force you to tell the truth?"  
  
"10 points to Miss Hunter." He took a minuscule flacon from a shelf. "This is all I have left. It takes ages to brew and the ingredients are very rare and incredibly expensive."  
  
Laurel looked at the Veritaserum and tried to imagine how many Ginger roots it took to produce it. As if he had read her mind, Snape heaved a basket filled with roots from the floor up onto the workbench.  
  
She sighed. "All this?"  
  
"One-hundred and eleven. Or one-hundred and ten, as I have already started." He took her hand and with a rare gesture of tenderness kissed her palm. "I know I promised you we'd go for a walk but …"  
  
"It is pouring down anyway," she replied. "Why don't you let me stay here in the dry dungeons with you? And if you show me how, I could help you with these."  
  
Half an hour later they stood at opposite sides of the workbench, the basket between them, slicing roots and pickling the slices in dew.  
  
"So, Potions is hard work - not just the softly simmering cauldrons," Laurel remarked.  
  
Snape smirked. "You remember that?"  
  
"First lesson."  
  
"It is both, a subtle art and a sometimes tiresome craft. Hard to make the first year students understand."  
  
"Did you like it when you were a student?"  
  
He ceased cutting and remembered the eleven year old, who had sought refuge in the Potions classroom. "Potions is all about cause and effect. I guess I liked that most. It made me feel safe."  
  
Laurel looked up. There it was, again. The sadness in his voice, the loneliness whenever he talked about his youth.  
  
"How about your friends? Did they share your passion?"  
  
"I had no friends." He met her glance and gave her a self-mocking grin. "Pathetic, isn't it? Nobody would cope with my less than sociable behaviour."  
  
"You can't have been that bad, Severus." Laurel kept her voice light and passed him her knife to sharpen.  
  
"Well, you should have known me when I was a student."  
  
"I often wonder … how things would have turned out had I come to Hogwarts in time."  
  
He stepped away from the work bench all of a sudden and started rummaging through a trunk. "You would have been a class under mine. One year younger you are, aren't you?" His voice was muffled.  
  
Laurel nodded to herself. "You are really lucky I wasn't there. It would have been so embarrassing for you."  
  
He paused, turned and set a stack of gloves on a desk. "Watch your gloves," he said. "The roots eat away even dragonhide when they are as fresh as these. Have a new pair every dozen roots." Looking at his glove she saw fringed holes at the fingertips.  
  
"Are you ok? Did it burn you?"  
  
He shook his head. "Nothing I won't survive. Now tell me, why I should have been embarrassed about you being in Hogwarts?"  
  
"I would have followed you around, too shy to ever talk to you. Secretly in love with you. You would have hated me for that."  
  
"I seriously doubt it," Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "I was very unpleasant then."  
  
"Very detached, I bet. Superior. Arrogant. I adored that when I was young, " she smirked self-consciously. "I still do."  
  
Refilling the dew bottle from a barrel in the corner, he looked at her. His eyes were the dark depths they had been the first evening in the Great Hall, but now Laurel let herself fall into them without fear.  
  
"I would have been amazed, not embarrassed."  
  
"We could have been friends," she said softly.  
  
"I would have needed a friend, very much."  
  
"Me too."  
  
Silence followed her words. They both picked up their knifes and continued cutting roots. Silently chuckling, Laurel thought how domestic the scene was, although nothing around her was the way it was supposed to be.  
  
"What is so funny?" inquired Snape, honing his knife with a quick wave of his wand.  
  
"This is like your typical scene from a mushy Muggle movie. A couple in their kitchen, preparing dinner, cutting vegetables for a stir-fry."  
  
"Movie? Explain."  
  
"Phh … moving pictures … but since all pictures in your world move you probably don't see the point."  
  
He snorted. "I doubt they keep pickled bats in jars in Muggle kitchens."  
  
"That's what made me laugh. The bats, the dragon's eyes over there, the scales and torches," she looked at him, "and you, the Potions master. It is surreal - but it still makes sense. I can't remember when exactly it became normal."  
  
He put the knife down and looked at her in a peculiar way. "So you ceased being homesick?"  
  
Laurel shook her head. "No, I still miss my family, my friends. We were very close and it was hard to be on my own suddenly. But Minerva gave me an Aquascope, so I can at least see them once in a while. And the Ministry let me visit them this summer, if only for three days."  
  
"I never asked you about your live … there. Would you like to tell me about it?"  
  
She shrugged. "What do you want to know?"  
  
"Many months ago I asked you whether there was anybody you loved," he said and kept his back to her, obviously busy with the jars. "You said …"  
  
"My family. Friends. Nobody … special." It was true. She had not wasted a thought about Jack in more than a year. She kept slicing and let her thoughts wander. "I had a relationship … out there. But it ended a few months before the Ministry sent me to Hogwarts."  
  
"A relationship?" His voice betrayed nothing but indifference, but he still avoided her eyes when he picked up his knife again.  
  
"His name was Jack. We lived together for … I can't believe it …. for almost three years. And then he left, without warning. Just moved out and left a letter, saying I was smothering him, and he wasn't ready for the kind of commitment I craved." She paused. "I could not bear it, so I took a job offer in London, just to get away."  
  
"Because you loved him." Again the carefully guarded detachment.  
  
Laurel thought about it for a while. "No."  
  
She placed another lot of sliced roots in a jar and covered them with dew from a large glass bottle. "Today I think I never loved him at all. Make no mistake, he was a great guy. Very much like Remus Lupin."  
  
Snape almost dropped his knife. "A Werewolf?"  
  
Laurel's laughter echoed from the vaults. "No. Jack is an accountant. Perfectly normal, thank you. Nine to five, gymn-club, But he was ... nice. Very polite, friendly. Soft." She bit her lip in sudden understanding. "Safe. He was safe."  
  
Snape waited.  
  
"I knew he'd never want more than the average relationship. I'd never be in danger to give more than I could control. And I knew - even though I cried after he left me - that he was not able to really hurt me."  
  
Without looking she reached for another root, only to find the basket empty. Snape's hand touched hers.  
  
She smiled. "This is probably a stupid question, but isn't there a spell for that kind of work? A Shredding Charm?"  
  
"Of course there is. No witch would cut carrots with a knife. But a spell needs energy. Cut by hand the energy goes straight into the Ginger roots where it starts a magical reaction." He furrowed his forehead. "Didn't they teach you anything in Beauxbatons?"  
  
"Well, I can do a lovely pot au feu if you like."  
  
Her smile made him happier than he cared to admit. He was only too aware of Voldemort's poisonous presence eating through his resistance. Being a Death Eater satisfied a dark and evil longing inside him, a longing he had thought burned out of his soul the night he had decided to put his fate into Dumbledore's hands. But now, with a Death Eaters meeting almost every week, it got harder and harder to keep the two worlds apart, to remember who he was.  
  
Laurel pulled the gloves off her hands and put them back on their hook.  
  
" I also learned to dust and iron - magically of course. They have a very practical approach in Beauxbatons."  
  
"So you'll make a clever little house witch," he mocked her, clearing the table with one move of his wand. "Any wizard should be glad to get you as his wife."  
  
"Any wizard but you, that is." She blushed violently until her whole face burned. What had got into her? Staring at the stone floor she repeated her mantra, over and over: 'He must not know. He must not know. He must not know.'  
  
"Laurel, I …"  
  
She looked up and saw the faint traces of pain and terror in his face. Without thinking she reached for his hand and for once he didn't push her back when she stroked his fist until he opened his palm.  
  
"Don't," he warned. "I told you before that I was … damaged."  
  
She ceased stroking but kept his hand in hers. "I didn't mean to push you. You never promised me anything, Severus, and I'll take what you are willing to give."  
  
He took a deep breath. "I am not good at this … this love thing."  
  
"Love thing?"  
  
"Tenderness. Kisses. Foolish poems. Don't expect any of these things, Laurel."  
  
"I won't."  
  
He covered her face with kisses, hot, passionately, crushing her against his body. "We need to be present at dinner," he groaned when she undid the collar of his robe to allow her lips to draw a fiery line down to the hollow of his throat.  
  
"We could be late … and leave early."  
  
He lifted her up until their eyes were at the same level.  
  
"Let me down!" she protested laughing.  
  
"Will you spend the night with me?" His voice purred like a big cat's.  
  
She knew it meant to sleep alone in the four poster bed while he tossed and turned in the chair or on the floor in front of the fireplace. But had she ever been so happy about the short time a man allowed her to hold him?  
  
Instead of an answer she kissed him again.  
  
  
  
Two pair of eyes stared at them through the open door of the lab. Two pair of feet tiptoed away as silently as possible.  
  
"He is going to kill us. He is going to kill us," Neville whispered, his face white as parchment.  
  
"Don't be ridiculous, Neville!" Hermione scolded, pulling him away from the lab and up the stairs. "Why should he kill us? We didn't do anything." She stressed the 'we' and shook her head in wonderment.  
  
Neville snorted. "He killed Trevor just for being a toad. What do you think he is going to do to students who caught him kissing another teacher?"  
  
"He probably didn't notice us at all. We just have to keep quiet about it, and they'll never know we saw them."  
  
"I don't believe this! She is so nice. How can she let him touch her?" Neville looked behind them as if he expected Snape to come after them the very instant. "He must have given her a love potion!"  
  
"I don't think so," replied Hermione slowly. "She seemed to act out of free will. And you know what?" She stared at Neville in sudden understanding. "He looked happy. For the first time since we know him, he looked happy."  
  
* * * 


	12. Black and White

12. Black and White  
  
When Laurel and Snape entered the Great Hall, everyone was already seated at the High Table and eating. Suddenly Snape stood petrified. Laurel followed his gaze and saw a familiar face at the High Table smiling at her.  
  
"Remus!"  
  
Next to Lupin sat a tall man she had never seen before. Dumbledore waved at them to take a seat and get on with Dinner. They were barely through the main course when all others had already finished pudding. The golden plates cleared but Snape managed to grab a piece of chocolate cake before all the delicious things vanished. He broke it in two and passed one half to Laurel. When he saw Lupin smirking, he murmured something vile.  
  
Dumbledore rose and clapped his hands, to get the students' attention.  
  
"Before you all leave to your common rooms, I'd like to introduce two new additions to the staff. Many of you already know Professor Lupin. He has kindly agreed to return to Hogwarts and take up his former position as teacher of Defence against the Dark Arts."  
  
Laurel let her eyes wander and saw how the Slytherins stuck their heads together.  
  
"But he's a Werewolf!" somebody complained loudly.  
  
Dumbledore nodded and did not address the caller but all students.  
  
"Professor Lupin is indeed a Werewolf. But he is registered with the Ministry and I have no doubt that his first-hand experience with the Dark Arts can only be an advantage." He did not smile anymore, but looked serious and uncompromising. "If his … predicament is not a problem for Hogwarts, it should not be a problem for you … Mr Malfoy."  
  
Draco Malfoy blushed and avoided the Headmaster's gaze.  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "I'd also like to introduce Professor … ah … White."  
  
Laurel heard Snape snort.  
  
"Professor White is at Hogwarts to do some research in our archives, but has agreed to teach an elective class on Animagi for those interested in this very difficult subject. You can sign up for this class with Professor McGonagall tomorrow morning."  
  
Laurel turned to look at White. He had an open, inconspicuous face. When she looked away she was not able to recall any particular features. She tried again, and still would not have been able to describe White's face.  
  
"Interesting," she thought. "He'd be the perfect spy."  
  
Dumbledore looked at the students for a moment, his blue eyes imperious and gentle at the same time. "Prefects will now lead you to your common rooms. Good night to you. Professors will meet in the staff room."  
  
  
  
Ten minutes later the staff room was full - and at war.  
  
Laurel took a chair by the fireplace and watched in awe, how Snape and the wizard Dumbledore had introduced as Professor White threatened each other with muttered words and malicious stares.  
  
Serene stood at the window, obviously trying to keep as much distance as possible between Lupin and herself. McGonagall and Flitwick sat at the table frowning, while Professors Trelawney, Sinistra and Sprout kept close to the door, no doubt to leave if things got out of hand. Only Hagrid and Flitwick seemed undisturbed.  
  
Remus Lupin tried to calm the two wizards.  
  
"Severus, Sirius, stop it! Will you just listen to me!"  
  
Snape cut off his words furiously. "This is not your business, Lupin!"  
  
"Shut the hell up, Remus, and get out of my way!" Professor White snarled.  
  
When she looked at his face, Laurel forgot to breathe. Gone was the unremarkable face ... this was a face not easy to forget. Burning eyes, features that had once been handsome and now showed traces of hard times and weariness.  
  
He was still yelling at Severus and Snape answered with a fury Laurel had never experienced before. Oh, she had seen him in vile moods, sneering and cursing and prowling the dungeons like a malicious bat. But this was worse. This was not just fury, it was hatred, and the look in White's eyes was nothing less.  
  
"Severus. Sirius."  
  
Dumbledore's voice was little less than a whisper but made the two wizards cease their fight at once. The Headmaster looked them up and down, and shook his head as he would do to show a student his disappointment.  
  
"I suggest we all sit down."  
  
He took a seat at the head of the table and grudgingly Snape and White followed his example, although on opposite sides of the table.  
  
Laurel pulled her chair to Snape's side and touched his hand under the table. "What was that about?" she whispered.  
  
He still was white with anger, his cheeks burning in fever. "Black," he muttered. "The bastard is back."  
  
Dumbledore polished his glasses, then slipped his wand back into his sleeve.  
  
"First of all, Sirius, I apologise for not coming up with a more original name."  
  
White shrugged. "That is not what bothers me, Headmaster."  
  
"I understand. Still, the Incognito charm seemed to work. Outside this staff room and my office nobody will recognise you. I doubt that even Harry could tell. You can talk to him, of course, but he has to keep silent about your true identity."  
  
"So he is staying?" Snape's voice was rough with suppressed fury.  
  
"Animosity is a luxury we can not afford in times like these, Severus. I asked the two of you before, and I ask you again: Forget the past and work together for the future - or there will be not future at all."  
  
White - or Black, as Snape had called him - stalled. "He almost delivered me to the Dementors!"  
  
"And you tried to get me killed by Lupin!"  
  
"You are a damned Death Eater, Snape!" Sirius grabbed Snape's sleeve and tore it off. The Dark Mark showed clearly against the pale skin, although Laurel had seen it look much more viciously the day Severus had been summoned. "Do you all see it? This is Voldemort's sign! This is as good as a confession."  
  
Serene jumped up and ran out of the room, both hands pressed against her temples. Professor Sprout nudged Sybill Trelawney, and the Divinations teacher went after her assistant.  
  
Snape's eyes were on fire. He looked at his arm and said nothing.  
  
Surprisingly it was not Dumbledore who came to his defence, but Remus Lupin.  
  
"I clearly remember a day when everybody thought your were guilty of James' and Lilly's death, Sirius. Many said, your presence at Godrics Hollow was as good as a confession."  
  
"Don't you understand, Remus? He is not just a sneaky slimy Slytherin anymore. He is a DEATH EATER. He is going to deliver us all to the enemy!"  
  
"Well, as far as I remember it is you who delivers the innocent, isn't that so, Black?" replied Snape with deadly coldness.  
  
Dumbledore coughed and both men cast down their eyes like schoolboys. Laurel had always thought the Headmaster a wise and gentle man, if a little strange at times. But day after day it became clearer that there was a steely and superior mind behind those babyblue eyes.  
  
Minerva McGonagall cleared her throat awkwardly to break the silence.  
  
"Albus, what is this meeting about?"  
  
Dumbledore steepled his fingers. "Ah, the voice of reason. But actually this meeting is about what just happened. Face it, boys. You, Remus, are a Werewolf. You, Sirius, are still wanted for the murder of several innocent bystanders and the Potters. Severus is a Death Eater, as we all know by now. If I trust one of you, I trust all of you. The three of you will be together at Hogwarts for the next months, and you better find a way of civilised coexistence." He waved his wand and conjured a tea tray and a bottle of cognac. "And now, that we have genuinely scared Miss Kennedy, inconvenienced Professor Trelawney and amused Miss Hunter," he gave Laurel a smile, "we should all have a nice cup of tea and a nightcup."  
  
Nobody stayed long in the staff room that evening. Lupin excused himself after a few minutes with the urgent need to take his potion. McGonagall and Sinistra went to patrol the corridors which connected Ravenclaw and Gryffindor to prevent Miles Harrington and Lavender Brown to sneak out and meet in the middle of the night. Sirius Black and Professor Flitwick sat in a corner, playing chess without a word so ever.  
  
Laurel nodded to Dumbledore and rose. "Good night, everybody."  
  
Snape left with her.  
  
When they passed the Great Hall, she had problems to keep up with his long strides and held his arm. "Wait, Severus!"  
  
He turned to her, his eyes still burning. "I really don't want to talk about this, Laurel. I humour you whenever I can, but this is not the time."  
  
She looked up to him, arms akimbo. "What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"You believe in words. You think they can heal. Well, I think they just hurt. And I am not in the mood for more pain this evening." He grit his teeth. "And I have to go to Hogsmeade to pick up a perishable delivery."  
  
"I could wait up for you in my bedroom. Maybe you'd like to talk later?"  
  
His face went cold. "No."  
  
"So you stand alone, again?"  
  
Instead of an answer Laurel got a deadly stare and a black swipe of robe. Then the Potions master was gone, she was all alone in the Great Hall and had the distinctive feeling that the Bloody Baron was laughing at her.  
  
* * *  
  
At breakfast Severus gave Laurel a peculiar look - a look she would have called insecure and guilty with any other man. But Snape had never been either of the two, and so she ignored him for the time of the meal. She was not going to play games, but she still felt confused and furious about last evening and wanted an explanation much more than an apology.  
  
When Dumbledore rose, Snape pushed his chair back, took Laurel's arm and led her out of the Great Hall. "I need to show you something."  
  
She stalled and swallowed the last bite of cinnamon bun. "Show me here. I was not done yet."  
  
"It's in the Potions class room. I need your advise."  
  
"I have been told quite clearly that you could do without my advise."  
  
He took a deep breath. "I am sorry."  
  
"That's it?"  
  
"That's it. Take it or leave it."  
  
He rubbed his forearm without being aware of it. Laurel watched him carefully, but apparently this time the pain did not announce a call from Voldemort. She gave in and followed him down to the dungeons. After all he said he was sorry. That was not much, but with him it was quite a lot.  
  
"So what is it you want to show me? Not more Ginger roots?"  
  
"No, they are still fermenting." He unlocked the door and pointed at the desk in the gloomy room. "I don't know how to handle … this."  
  
Eager to find out what caused this cry for help she looked in the carton box on the desk.  
  
"A kitten?"  
  
He sighed and poked the box with an annoyed frown. "I found it last night in Hogsmeade. It lay in the mud, outside of Honeyduke's. At first I thought it was dead, but then it moved. I tried to give it to Honeyduke, but he flatly refused. Said he already had a cat and didn't need another one."  
  
Laurel picked up the little furball. It was not bigger than a tennisball and in bad shape. The fur was covered in dried mud, the little body thin and scrawny. It was just old enough to have opened its eyes. "It must be starving. Did you feed it?"  
  
Snape shook his head. "It won't drink."  
  
He showed her a small bowl of milk.  
  
"It is too small to drink from a bowl."  
  
"How would I know? Can you make it drink?"  
  
"Well, you could always threaten it to take points away if it does not obey."  
  
"Very funny, Laurel," Snape spat.  
  
Laurel looked at him. "So the big bad Potions master worries about a kittycat?"  
  
"You know quite well I don't want this … miserable creature to die. At least not on my desk. Do something!"  
  
"Mind if I ruin one of your gloves?"  
  
He shrugged. "Feel free."  
  
Laurel chose a glove made out of thin rubbery fishskin. Carefully she poured milk into the glove until the liquid filled the thumb.  
  
Snape watched her curiously. "Ah, I understand. You think it is going to suck this?"  
  
"It is worth a try, isn't it?" She picked up a small knife. "I'll puncture the glove now. You must hold the kitten next to the opening. And stroke its tummy."  
  
Snape looked down at the furball. "Let me hold the glove, and you take it."  
  
"No way," Laurel said. "It is only a baby. It won't bite you."  
  
The kitten was small enough to fit into Severus' palm and sat there, meowing pitifully. When it smelled the milk it rose its tiny head, searching for the source.  
  
"If you stroke its tummy it will drink," Laurel said urgently.  
  
Snape stared at the kitten and did not move.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
He shook his head. "How?" he said softly.  
  
Laurel switched the glove to her left hand and gently took Snape's finger. Leading it to the kitten's tummy, she moved it in soft circles. The kitten started to suckle greedily. Laurel's hand never stopped moving. It felt strangely erotic to lead Severus' finger, to have him follow her every motion without any resistance.  
  
"See," she whispered. "It is easy."  
  
He looked at her, his eyes a dark fire, his cheeks slightly flushed. His breath got faster while she made him stroke the kitten until it fell asleep in his palm.Laurel let go of his hand and put the empty glove back on the desk.  
  
Snape gently touched her arm. "Let me practise once more."  
  
He stroked the back of her hand, took his time, drew tender circles until she had to bite her lip.  
  
"I didn't know how to do this," he said earnestly. "Thank you for showing me."  
  
Laurel stifled a moan. "Severus …"  
  
"Professor Snape?"  
  
They both jumped, waking the kitten which meowed loudly.  
  
Neville Longbottom stood in the classroom, his face white with fear.  
  
"I … you told me to come early today … to clean the cauldron I wrecked yesterday."  
  
Snape sneered. "I am afraid your cauldron is beyond cleaning, Mr. Longbottom. Maybe they can use you at the Department for Magical Defence. So far you have destroyed any equipment in this classroom. That was an extra strong cauldron, and you wrecked it within an hour!"  
  
Laurel stepped hard on his toe and saw with satisfaction how he winced, but he would not stop putting Neville down.  
  
The boy did not look him in the eye but stared at his shoes and, when the kitten protested again, at the tiny furry something in Snape's hand.  
  
"Professor Snape?"  
  
"I have no idea how you do it, Mr. Longbottom, and I don't really care. But if I could I would bar you from my class room."  
  
"Sir, there is a kitten in your hand," Neville stuttered.  
  
Snape looked down. "I know quite well there is a kitten in my hand, Mr. Longbottom. Do you suggest I am out of my mind?"  
  
"No, Sir!" Neville's pale face showed bright red spots now.  
  
"So?"  
  
"I only … I only wondered … what you were to do with the kitten."  
  
Snape's lips curled with cruelty and Laurel watched his face change with sudden unease.  
  
"I need it," he said curtly. "For an experiment."  
  
When he turned to set the kitten back into its box, Neville grabbed his sleeve with surprising strength.  
  
"No!"  
  
"I beg your pardon, Mr. Longbottom?"  
  
"I said No! You will not stew this kitten or cut it up or pickle it!"  
  
Snape looked so furious as if he was about to kill them both, Neville and the kitten. "Well, I don't see anything that would keep me from it."  
  
"I do!"  
  
Laurel watched amazed, how Neville snatched the kitten from Snape's hand and pressed it to his chest. He breathed sporadically and his hands certainly shook, but he stood his ground.  
  
"Give it back. Now," Snape kept his voice dangerously soft.  
  
"I won't."  
  
"You won't?"  
  
"You heard me." Neville looked like a doomed man. "You won't get it."  
  
They stared at each other.  
  
"Well, Mr Longbottom," drawled Snape and crossed his arms. "Then I suggest you take it with you. But if I ever see the wretched animal in my classroom again, it will end up there." He pointed at the shelf with the pickled bats.  
  
Neville backed up to the door, the kitten kept safely in a fold of his robes. Laurel saw he was still shaking and not trusting Snape's sudden surrender.  
  
When he reached the door, the Potions master called him.  
  
"Mr. Longbottom?"  
  
"Sir?"  
  
"Don't call the poor thing Trevor, will you?"  
  
The boy ran for the save corridor and slammed the door.  
  
Laurel stared at the door for a moment and contemplated the scene she had just witnessed. Then she turned to Snape. Taking in his austere features, she gently combed her fingers through his black hair.  
  
"You never cease to amaze me, Professor Snape."  
  
* * * 


	13. Hound and Hunter

13, Hound and Hunter  
  
  
  
It was cold in the broom-shed in the back yard, where the staff kept their brooms. Laurel stood in the door and looked doubtfully at the second-hand broom she had brought from Beauxbatons. Dumbledore had set up an account for her at a bank called Gringotts in London, wherever they might be. She had asked Hagrid to bring her some money when he went there on Hogwarts business, and he had returned with a pouch of coins, much more than the pocket money the Ministry had awarded her while she was still a student.  
  
In Hogsmeade she had quickly found out, that with her salary she would be able to buy all the chocolate truffles in Honeyduke's. But not a new broom, at least not this term. So she had bought a broomstick servicing kit and a few spare twigs, and would try to fix the aged model she flew.  
  
  
  
An hour later her knees felt like ice, her hands were full of scratches and her face dirty. Obviously it was one thing to change a flat tyre and an entirely different thing to change a broken twig.  
  
"I should just take a match and put you out of your misery," she muttered under her breath and pushed the offending broomstick away.  
  
"If you are planing a bonfire I suggest you take the broom outside."  
  
Laurel started at the sudden intrusion.  
  
"Professor … White."  
  
He did not smile. "You can call me Sirius. After all we are some kind of allies, as Dumbledore keeps reminding me."  
  
Laurel stood up and wiped her hands on a rag. "So you are the notorious Sirius Black, who vanished from the seventh floor of the West tower without a trace." When she sensed his surprise, she explained: "I was a student then. Your escape was one of the secrets everybody knew about. Of course nobody could explain how you did it."  
  
Sirius sat on a crate that contained broken twigs and handles.  
  
"I bet, old Severus accused Harry."  
  
She tried to remember. "Yes, I think you are right. But nobody could see how he should have helped you."  
  
"I don't remember you from school, and I remember anyone with a skirt. Did you go to Beauxbatons or Durmstrang?"  
  
Laurel tried to open the bundle of twigs. "I did not attend school at all. I mean, this kind of school. Wizarding school." Exasperated she waved her wand and the wire that tied the twigs snapped.  
  
"So you really are a Muggle," Sirius mused. "Remus told me, but I did not believe it. Does our common friend know?"  
  
She gave him a cool gaze. "You and Severus are not friends exactly, are you?"  
  
His laughter was hoarse and entirely without amusement. "I hate his guts, and he would gladly finish me off, if he could do it without Dumbledore's knowledge."  
  
Laurel kept working on the broomstick. Sirius took a pack of cigarettes out of his sleeve, offered it to her, and when she inclined, lit one for himself.  
  
"So what is going on between Snape and you?" he inquired casually. "He wasn't really popular with the girls when we went to school."  
  
She glared at him. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Well, Remus says old Snape is madly in love with you. I bet him 5 Galleons that he is wrong."  
  
Gripping a twig so hard it almost broke, she avoided his gaze. Remus was to loose his money. She knew that very well.  
  
"I really don't think this is your business," she said finally and gave the broom handle a hard shove.  
  
He shrugged. "You should get a new broom, you know."  
  
"Can't afford it with a teacher's salary."  
  
"Snape could."  
  
"Severus?" she asked, getting more irritated by the minute.  
  
"He must have tons of money. Inherited a fortune when his old man died."  
  
Laurel sat back on her heels and stared at him. "What exactly is your problem, Black? Why are you here?"  
  
"Dumbledore wants us to … how did he put it? To coexist in a civilised way? Forgive me if my manners are a little rough. Azkaban does that to you." His voice was bitter.  
  
"I am sorry you were sent to prison without proper court procedures."  
  
"Well, that is hard to believe from the woman who fucks my arch-enemy," he spat.  
  
Laurel choked with anger.  
  
"Oh, did I hurt your feelings? Those bloodstained hands, do they make you hot, when they touch you?"  
  
"Out! Get the hell out!" She rose and pointed at the door.  
  
He just snorted. "Make me leave. But remember, Dumbledore wants me here at Hogwarts."  
  
Laurel felt an overwhelming urge to strangle him or punch that sneering face. But that was exactly what he wanted her to do. How could Remus Lupin, gentle polite Lupin, call this man a friend!  
  
She turned away from him, concentrating on her breath, calming her anger by counting back from hundred. Tearing twigs from the bundle, she said: "You are right, Black. I can't forbid you to be here. But I swear - if you say one more word I'll try a hex on you that will seriously spoil your day. Just dare me!"  
  
He remained silent, sitting there, smoking and watching her.  
  
While she fixed the new twigs with a spell, she thought about the three men - Remus, Sirius, Severus. They were so different and yet … Fate had led them to this place. She remembered only too well the newspaper headlines in her first year in Hogwarts. BLACK ON THE RUN! they had screamed. But then Severus had not with one word betrayed that he knew the man. Knew? Hated.  
  
And the hatred was mutual, the scene in the staff-room had made that very clear. If Severus had been ready to deliver Black to the Dementors - creatures he detested and despised -, how far would Sirius go? With sudden unease she remembered the evening when Dumbledore and McGonagall had informed her that somebody was out to kill her - to hurt Severus. And Sirius Black had been at Hogwarts then, as a black dog but nonetheless close enough to … poison her. Laurel's hands began to sweat.  
  
When she turned to him, he was gone, as silently as he had appeared. Just his cigarette pack lay on the crate.  
  
* * *  
  
That afternoon Snape met Laurel right outside the castle to try out her broomstick. Snow had fallen the night before, and the grounds were covered with a soft white blanket. The lake was a frozen mirror and from afar they could see Hagrid jumping up and down on the ice to test its strength. When the students returned from their Christmas holidays they would find a perfect ice rink.  
  
The castle was very silent now with most of the kids gone. Only a dozen of them had stayed and spent their days with simple pleasures - or elaborated mischief, as Snape suspected.  
  
"When I crossed the Entrance Hall, I saw the Creevey brothers sneak around the corner. And they were not on the way to the library, believe me!"  
  
Laurel laughed and mounted her broom. Her breath formed white clouds.  
  
"Let's fly," she suggested. "From up there you have a much better view and can detect any crime immediately."  
  
They flew in a wide circle around the castle. The sheer beauty of the snow- covered turrets and towers took Laurel by surprise. The sun lit sparkling white fires on the icicles. When they passed the Quidditch pitch, they saw that a match was on - three by three. Some students played what appeared a somewhat rough version of the original game.  
  
Laurel pointed down at the empty snow-covered Slytherin stand. When they landed, her face burned from the wind and the cold. But she felt much better now, as if the icy air had cleansed Black's words out of her heart.  
  
Snape waved his wand and conjured a woolplaid. A muttered spell cleared a bit of wooden bench, just enough space for two people - if they sat very close … Laurel smiled at him.  
  
"Shall we watch the match?"  
  
"Why not," he grumbled and drew her next to him on the seat. "It is always a pleasure to see them try to kill each other."  
  
Snuggled up under the plaid and their warm cloaks, they sat there, Snape's arm almost incidentally around Laurel's shoulders. She took his hand in hers and warmed it. Amusedly she heard him suppress a cheer when Harry, in a valiant dive, caught the snitch - only to throw it into the air again. Obviously they had altered the rules a bit.  
  
"It looks like we are not the only ones who rather like the privacy of the stands," she said and pointed at the Ravenclaw stand. Bundled in their cloaks, a girl and a boy kissed in a corner, oblivious of the world and the players who soared over their heads.  
  
Snape snorted. "This is Miss Brown and Mr Harrington, I assume."  
  
"Lavender and Miles, yes. They seem to be very much in love, don't they?"  
  
His mouth twitched. "In love!"  
  
"It is not a lethal disease, you must know," she shot back.  
  
"I know, but they are children. They can't be in love!"  
  
"Ah, Severus!" Laurel laughed softly and cupped his cold face with her hands. For a moment he closed his eyes and indulged in the abundance of warmth.  
  
"Love is not a matter of age," Laurel said earnestly. "And they are not children. They are sixteen, almost adults."  
  
"Yeah, sure," Snape said caustically and wrapped the blanket tight around her knees. "Mr Harrington spent only last week two hours in detention for scaring Mrs Norris witless with a hexed mouse. That was very adult, wasn't it?"  
  
Laurel chuckled. "Probably not. But then it was a great idea."  
  
"And Miss Brown …," he sadly shook his head. "I don't even want to think about her as somebody fully responsible for what they do. Because then …"  
  
"It could have been us."  
  
His head jerked.  
  
"Us?"  
  
"It could have been us, sitting there on the stand." Laurel nodded towards the couple on the Ravenclaw stand. "If we had been together in school. And if we had fallen in love, that is."  
  
He stared at her, his face unreadable, his eyes filled with a strange blend of desire and disbelieve.  
  
"Do you think we would have loved each other?" Laurel asked without breaking eye-contact.  
  
"I don't know," he answered slowly. "I keep asking myself the same question. And …"  
  
"And?"  
  
"And if your love could have changed everything."  
  
Laurel's heart ached when she heard his voice tremble. A moment like this was rare, and seemed to get even rarer lately. The more often Voldemort summoned the Death Eaters, the more detached and reclusive Snape became. The last two times he had even sent her away when he returned, exhausted and bleeding. She had asked him to see Madam Pomfrey but to no avail. Assumedly the Dark Mark disabled all healing charms. For days Snape had prowled the castle in what the students interpreted as a particular vile mood, and what Laurel suspected was bare endurance by strength of mind.  
  
„We shall never know."  
  
A redhaired chaser soared only inches over their heads and Laurel could see Ginny Weasley wave apologetically. The magic of the moment was broken.  
  
Snape stared at Ginny and held up both hands with outstretched fingers.  
  
"Ten," he mouthed.  
  
"Sorry, Professor," the girl yelled when she escaped towards the hoops.  
  
"Come on, Severus, it is Christmas." Laurel pulled down his hands. "Show some mercy!" She did not let go of his hands and took heart to ask the question that had bothered her all morning.  
  
„Why was Black sent to Azkaban?"  
  
He tensed, his gaze suddenly watchful and wary.  
  
"Why do you ask?"  
  
"He is so full of anger and hatred. At the staff meeting Remus said something about Black being misjudged because he was seen at the wrong place at the wrong time."  
  
Snape nodded. "He was taken by Aurors, in an alley where a dozen muggles had just been blown apart. Everybody thought it was him, and since he wouldn't talk and the Ministry needed a scapegoat, he was sent to Azkaban without trial."  
  
"So he was innocent? He did not murder anybody?"  
  
"He did not, as far as I know. It was his friend Peter Pettygrew who betrayed the Potters and murdered those innocents in the street."  
  
"He tried to kill you when you were boys."  
  
"True. But who am I to hold it against him? After all, he never succeeded. While I …" He cleared his throat. "While I have killed."  
  
Laurel bit her lip. Of course she had never deluded herself about his time with the Death Eaters. The few things Dumbledore had told her about Voldemort's army had given her a bad enough picture of what they had done on the height of the Dark Lord' reign.  
  
Snape's voice did not waver.  
  
"I did not slit their throat or tear out their heart, but I still am responsible for their death. I was Voldemort's hound and hunter. I still am, and if it were not for his current weakness, the list of my victims would grow with every summoning. I tracked his enemies down wherever they tried to hide. Others did the killing, but I am responsible."  
  
Snape clenched his fists and looked into the distance beyond the Quidditch pitch. The players had finished the game and had left.  
  
"This is who I am, Laurel," he said flatly. "A killer. I wish I could change my past, believe me. Every living minute I wish I could change it."  
  
"Severus." Her voice was a caress. "I love …"  
  
He covered her mouth with his hand and smiled sadly.  
  
"Don't."  
  
He cradled her head against his shoulder, burying his face in her hair. And like this they stayed until the sun went down and night fell over the grounds.  
  
* * *  
  
When Laurel passed the Entrance Hall the next morning on her way to breakfast, she found a small crowd gathering at the door. Snape and Dumbledore seemed to be discussing rather fervently, Serene hugged a man in a travel cloak, and Remus Lupin stood a few paces away, watching the woman with an unreadable expression, and now and then interfering in Snape's and Dumbledore's discussion.  
  
When Laurel stepped closer, the man stepped away from Serene and she recognised Ben Olsen, obviously just arrived.  
  
"Ben," she said friendly.  
  
She had not seen him since the Ministry had sent her to France more than 18 months ago. He looked drawn and tired, and one of his pale eyes twitched nervously when he smiled at her.  
  
"Laurel, how good to have you back."  
  
He gave her a quick hug, and whispered into her ear.  
  
"Do me a favour and try to calm Serene, will you? I am too exhausted from the flight." That said, he picked up his luggage and vanished up the stairs.  
  
Laurel turned to Serene and found her close to tears and shivering.  
  
"Serene, what is wrong? Do you feel ill?"  
  
The young witch just stood there, fists clenched, watching Snape and Dumbledore.  
  
Laurel saw Snape bare his teeth and wondered what had made him so angry.  
  
"I won't have it!" His voice was dangerously soft. "It is too precarious."  
  
Dumbledore smiled sadly. "My dear boy, I am the last to deny that the relations between Hogwarts and the Ministry are worse than ever."  
  
"Voldemort has infiltrated the Ministry for months. There are Dementors guarding the doors now, and they are at his beck and call."  
  
"I know that, Severus. Thanks to you I know all that."  
  
"Then why be foolish and go right into the lion's lair?"  
  
The old wizard stroked his beard. "Because some of my dearest sheep are there?"  
  
He turned towards the huge oaken door.  
  
"Damn it, Albus! This is suicide!"  
  
Snape's hand grabbed the Headmaster's sleeve to hold him back. The old wizard stumbled with the impact and almost fell. Snape caught his elbow and held him.  
  
Laurel saw Serene wince and an instance later the witch ran crying past Remus to the stairs. Lupin shook his head, when Laurel started after her.  
  
"I'll take care of that. You are needed here."  
  
Dumbledore just stood there, fragile and old and whitebearded, but so forcefully in his mere presence it almost frightened Laurel.  
  
Snape let go of the Headmaster immediately and stepped back, his face pale and shocked.  
  
"I am sorry … I don't know what got into me."  
  
The old wizard sighed.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
Snape stared at his shoes like an awkward schoolboy.  
  
"Severus?" Dumbledore asked again, more urgently this time. "Are you sure you can go on?"  
  
The Potions master looked up, his eyes empty and black.  
  
"I almost hit you."  
  
"But you did not. I am not as fragile as I look."  
  
He kept studying Snape's face attentively.  
  
"It is eating at you, isn't it? I know it is hard, but I have to ask you to go on for a few more weeks. Do you think you can bear it?"  
  
Snape only nodded.  
  
Dumbledore turned to Laurel.  
  
"I have to go to London, my dear, and shall not return until the day after tomorrow."  
  
"Or not at all …," muttered Snape rebelliously.  
  
"So if there is a summons, will you be able to get by on your own?"  
  
So far Laurel had spent the waiting time in Dumbledore's study while Snape was away. She rather enjoyed the time with the gentle wise wizard, as he told her a lot about the history of Hogwarts and his own quite exciting life. But she knew, that by now she'd be able to keep her worried mind away from Severus long enough and would not endanger him.  
  
"Don't worry. I'll be fine," she smiled.  
  
"So will I."  
  
He gave Snape a curt wave and left, through the door like a common Muggle.  
  
* * *  
  
With Dumbledore away, Snape Apparated right into his bedroom after the meeting with Voldemort that very evening. It had been the worst so far. Not only because of the number of Death Eaters attending, not only because of Voldemort's increasing power. The worst, because he could feel the Dark Lord's black poison burning through his defences into the very heart of him.  
  
He shivered.  
  
He was cold and bewildered.  
  
Laurel slept in the deep chair in front of the fire. He stepped closer and for a moment watched her silently.  
  
She was not really pretty, at least not compared to Serene Kennedy. But it had never been her looks that attracted him from the start, he reminded himself. She was warm, she was friendly and compassionate. She stood her ground when he was in a vile mood, which was almost all of the time lately.  
  
And their bodies were made for each other. They were perfect together in bed. Lust formed a hot ball in his stomach.  
  
Laurel stirred and rubbed her eyes.  
  
"You are back," she yawned and rose from the chair to hug him  
  
When she saw him stare at her with a strange glint in his eyes, she stopped dead.  
  
"What?"  
  
„I want you," he said, his voice hoarse as always when he returned. "Now."  
  
Laurel protested faintly when he drew her closer and greedily sucked her bottom lip into his mouth.  
  
"You can't be serious! You should rest, eat, get a band-aid for that cut on your cheek."  
  
Snape did not listen. He heard his own heartbeat thunder in his ears, drumming a furious rhythm. He was hard as a rock, painfully ready, the beast in him poised to lunge. With a fluid motion he tore open her robe. Buttons flew in all directions.  
  
Laurel would have laughed if she hadn't felt the need vibrating from him. But when he grabbed her shoulders and forced her backwards, the laughter died and was replaced by fear. Her back rapped against the wall and before she could so much as gasp, he pulled up her skirts and drove himself into her.  
  
She was dry, unprepared for him. "This is not real," was all she could think as he bit down on her lip. He was rough, careless, and she felt the hard stones painfully bruise her body as he rammed her, over and over, into the wall. She couldn't see his face and wasn't sure she'd recognise it if she could. This was not the man she knew, she loved. This was the Death Eater.  
  
"Severus." Shock and fear quavered in her voice. "You are hurting me."  
  
He muttered something, hoarse words she didn't understand, and the more she struggled the more it hurt. So she stopped fighting, gripped his shoulders and shut her eyes to what was happening to both of them.  
  
Snape couldn't stop. Even as part of him seemed to step away, watching from afar, disgusted with what he was doing, he simply couldn't stop. The need was like acid eating at him. There was a dark voice somewhere in his head, evil, greedy. Harder, it demanded. Faster. More. It drove him, incited him, until he emptied with one last thrust.  
  
  
  
Laurel pushed him away, blind with tears. Furiously she rose her knee to strike him in the groin but stopped at the last moment.  
  
He was trembling like a man with a vicious fever, and when she saw his face she did not know any more if she wanted to hit him or soothe him. White as parchment, he looked so devastated she was suddenly terrified.  
  
Snape still felt as if he stood beside his body and could watch himself, panting, still imprisoning Laurel with hands braced against the wall. With the violent need met, his mind slowly cleared. Beast and man melted into each other, again. Remorse hit him like a bucket of icewater. The disgust with what he had just done choked him. He shook off the dizziness and eased himself back from the wall.  
  
Instinctively she held on to his shoulders.  
  
"Don't, Laurel."  
  
He nudged away her hands and stepped back until he was out of her reach. To see her cry, cry because of him, because of what he had done, was worse than anything. He had always known what he was. They had told him often enough. An animal. Less than that. He had deluded himself for a while. But tonight he had done something unforgivable. He had been like his father.  
  
When she reached out again, he held up his hands to stop her.  
  
"Go. Go away, Laurel. Save yourself."  
  
Unaware of the tears that rolled down her cheeks she shook her head stubbornly.  
  
"No. I want … an explanation for what just … happened."  
  
"Leave, Laurel. I can't guarantee …"  
  
"No."  
  
She clenched her fists and just stood there, in his austere bedroom, still believing that there was something good, something noble in him. But he knew better now.  
  
"Then I'll go."  
  
Still in shock Laurel saw him pick up his cloak and leave the room without another look in her direction.  
  
* * *  
  
There was a fresh candle on her night-stand, and Laurel made a mental note to thank the house-elves the next day when she lit it with her wand. Weary she undressed and brushed her teeth. Then she crawled into bed and pulled the duvet over her head, a comforting habit from her early childhood. And there, shielded from the world by a wall of goose-down, she fell apart. Letting the tears freely flow, she hugged herself, shaking with sobs.  
  
When she had no more tears, she pushed the duvet away. The candle had burned down and a faint, indefinable scent filled the air.  
  
Clumsily she climbed out of bed and winced when she spotted her red and puffy face in the mirror. Turning to check her back in the mirror, she moaned. He had not hurt her intentionally but had not taken care either. She had not existed for him, had been a faceless nameless body. She remembered her fear. But what had hurt her most was that he wouldn't talk to her about it.  
  
"Bastard," she said to the mirror, and the glass answered with a shocked moan.  
  
She blew her nose and took a deep breath. No use fretting about Severus' behaviour all night long. Though her whole body hurt and she'd be black and blue tomorrow, she needed to sleep. She loved him, had loved him for too long to be scared away easily. Because that was what he tried. Scaring her away.  
  
The mirror wavered. The washstand seemed to come closer. And Laurel fainted.  
  
  
  
The first thing she felt when she woke up, was the big bruise on the side of her head where it had hit the washstand.  
  
She could not move. It was as if her body was paralysed, or her legs and arms bound. From where she lay she could see an empty fireplace, an hourglass and two chairs. But nothing appeared familiar. This was not the Hospital. She had never been in this room before. Whoever had kidnapped her, had left her on a bed, immobile.  
  
'Full Body-Bind,' she thought. Any first year student could have done it. Maybe this was just a practical joke?  
  
But when another hour had passed on the timepiece on the mantle, she had to admit that this was serious. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious, but wouldn't anybody miss her at mealtime? Wouldn't Severus search for her if she didn't show up in the Great Hall? But then he had to assume she was avoiding him …  
  
She cried for help until her throat was sore and her eyes watered.  
  
With growing fear she recalled the evening when somebody had tried to poison her. Was this the same person, trying their luck again? She remembered Sirius Black's bitter accusations in the broom-shed.  
  
The door opened - and Laurel's mouth fell open in shock. 


	14. Veritaserum

4. Veritaserum  
  
  
  
„Serene?"  
  
Laurel did not believe her eyes.  
  
"Serene! God, am I glad to see you!"  
  
The young woman just stood in the doorway, pale as death, fingers entwined like a frightened child. Through the open door Laurel could glimpse a familiar painting. Obviously this was the now vacant bedroom they had shared when they were students two years ago. The light from the room made Serene's red hair light up like fire.  
  
"How did you find me?" Laurel asked, her voice croaking from hours of crying. "I can't move. It is a Fully Body-Bind. You can undo it, can't you?"  
  
Serene nodded and stepped closer, shutting the door carefully.  
  
"I know how to undo that spell. But I won't."  
  
Laurel frowned in confusion. "What …"  
  
Serene sat at the bedside and started biting her nails.  
  
"You did it? You?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You knocked me out and tied me and brought me to this room?"  
  
"It was the candle, Laurel. I knew you were too strong for me physically so I had Ben bring me this candle from Knockturn Alley. I was so afraid he would not make it, he was late again, and I was getting desperate."  
  
Laurel stared at her, mouth agape.  
  
"But why? What did I ever do to you?" she fought for understanding. And while she talked, her mind raced. Would anybody hear her if she screamed the very moment Serene opened the door again? But then she might be dead when Serene left …  
  
"It is not your fault," Serene whispered and her eyes filled with tears. She kept nibbling her nails, and now Laurel saw that they were bitten back to raw flesh. "I am so sorry, Laurel, I really am. I just don't know what to do anymore."  
  
Laurel reminded herself to breath slowly. What was it they always said about psychos? Keep them talking. Try to make them see you as another human being, not just a thing.  
  
"Serene, I am cold. And I am afraid" she said quietly. "Why don't you untie me and we talk it over? Whatever it is that bothers you, I'll help you."  
  
Serene shook her head.  
  
"I am so sorry, Laurel."  
  
'She is going to kill you,' said a tiny voice in Laurel's head. 'You'll never know why. And you'll never see Severus again.'  
  
As if she could read her mind, Serene looked at her and blew her nose. "I won't hurt you. Believe me, I never wanted to hurt you. But you left me no choice."  
  
"I left you no … Wait!" Laurel tried to sit up. "What do you mean, you never wanted to hurt me? It was you who poisoned my food then? Who set fire to the reading room in the National Library?"  
  
As if she had been hit, Serene jumped off the bed and backed away from Laurel. "I had no choice," she repeated. "  
  
"Let me go," Laurel pleaded. "I won't tell anybody."  
  
"Why couldn't you stay away?" Serene's eyes filled with tears again. "When you went to Beauxbatons I hoped …" She took a deep breath. "I discovered this chamber one of those nights when you thought me sleeping and sneaked out."  
  
Laurel watched her, getting more frightened. "You discovered the chamber?"  
  
"Obviously it only appears for 15 minutes every night. Then it vanishes again." When she saw Laurel's eyes widen in shock, Serene shook her head reassuringly. "Nothing will happen to you. I tried it with an owl and the bird was still alive the next day. The chamber just vanishes but doesn't shrink or anything."  
  
"The perfect hiding place," Laurel whispered.  
  
"I'll bring you food and water every night. I'll even untie you before I leave. But you must stay here."  
  
She drew her wand and undid the Binding spell. "Stay back!" she warned.  
  
"But you can't keep me here forever," Laurel implored.  
  
"If I have to, I will."  
  
Serene left. Laurel leapt off the bed and ran to the door. She yanked the doorknob but the door would not open. Desperately she searched the room for something to break the door open. Her wand was gone, Serene was not stupid and had taken it away while Laurel had been unconscious.  
  
Eventually she took the brass poker from the fireplace and used it as a crowbar. The ancient wood croaked and splintered. Boards only held by rusty fittings, the door fell apart. Laurel stood there, breathing hard, starring at the wall. Because that was what she faced: A solid wall. The chamber had already vanished, and wherever it might be right now - there was no door. She would have to wait until the next time it docked onto the student's bedroom.  
  
  
  
Forty-eight hours later Laurel lay on the floor, dizzy and exhausted. Her throat was sore and felt like sandpaper. Serene had only left her a small jug of water, enough for a day. But she had not returned as promised. The bedroom-door had appeared all right, and Laurel had tried to prize it open with the poker, but it was in a much better state than the chamber's ancient door. She had remembered Snape's words, that the power was all in her head, not in the wand, and had eventually produced a fireball. But it only scourged the wood and made the air in the chamber almost unbreathable. After 15 minutes the door had vanished again, and since then there was only the bare wall. Serene had not come. Apparently Laurel had been left to die here.  
  
'How ridiculous,' she thought, sitting up tiredly and resting her head against the bed. How ridiculous to die from dehydration, when she had survived a fire, a unicorn crazy with grieve, a lethal poison and the flight over the Channel on a stuttering broomstick. To die like this, without a chance to see Severus again. To ask him …  
  
When she saw the wall turn into wood, and the bedroom-door reappeared, Laurel did not dare to hope for rescue. All she wanted right now was something to drink.  
  
The door opened, and Serene entered, balancing a tray in one hand while she carefully locked the door.  
  
Laurel remained where she was, just stared at the other woman.  
  
"You are late," she rasped.  
  
Serene answered with a sob, and Laurel saw that her eyes were red from crying. "I am so sorry, Laurel. I really tried to come but …"  
  
In a white flash the door vanished. Serene screamed and dropped the tray. The water jug shattered on the stone floor. And then everything went very fast.  
  
Laurel recognised Snape, black robe billowing, wand raised like a sword. His eyes shot black fire. She had never seen him like this - icy fury.  
  
He shouted a spell and Serene's body slammed against the wall, went down, rose and slammed again. The woman cried out in pain.  
  
Another wizard pushed Snape aside, and drew his own body as a shield over Serene's.  
  
Snape drew in a deep breath. Deadly anger burned in his eyes.  
  
"Move away, Remus!" he snarled.  
  
Lupin just shook his head defiantly and hugged Serene closer.  
  
"She tried to kill Laurel!"  
  
A violent impact hit Lupin and the woman in his arms, but he would not let go.  
  
"That's enough, Snape!"  
  
Sirius Black tried to force Snape's arm down. The Potions master bared his teeth and the other wizard backed up involuntarily.  
  
"Laurel!" Lupin's voice was strained. A thin line of blood trickled from his forehead. "Tell him to stop …"  
  
Another hit blasted him off the floor again. Serene had lost consciousness by now.  
  
Sirius yanked Laurel up and shoved her towards Snape. "Damn it, woman, he'll kill them. Make him stop!"  
  
Laurel swallowed hard. Her throat was so dry she could hardly speak.  
  
"Severus", she whispered.  
  
He would not listen.  
  
"Don't hurt them."  
  
She reached out and covered his hand with hers. A wave of pure energy hit her. The shock made her tremble and she had to grab his shoulder for suspension. He stared at her, wild-eyed, the same stranger who had scared her so much three days ago. And still - behind the cold fury she recognised despair. She could not tear her gaze away from his, fell into his dark eyes. 'This is ridiculous,' she thought when the room started to spin. 'I won't faint again!'. But she did.  
  
Black grabbed Snape's shoulder and shook him hard. "Drop the wand and take Laurel to the hospital," he suggested quietly.  
  
Snape shook his hand off. "What about her?" He nodded towards Serene, who still lay on the floor, her head cradled against Lupin's breast.  
  
"I'll take them both to Madam Pomfrey as well. You made sure she won't run."  
  
As Black went to help Lupin standing up, Snape fell to his knees next to Laurel. Lost for words he touched her face with a tenderness that seemed to choke him all of a sudden. Carefully lifting her, he carried her out of the room and down the stairs to the Hospital wing, oblivious of the ghosts who stopped dead in the Hall, gaping at the Potions master walking by with the unconscious woman in his arms.  
  
  
  
Black had had the presence of mind to usher Lupin with Serene through the Floo system. Therefore Lupin's head was already bandaged when Snape arrived in Madam Pomfrey's realm. Through a door he could see Serene, pale as death in a bed in a private room, half shielded by curtains. He couldn't care less whether the witch was dead or alive. The murderous rage that had filled him when he found out that Laurel had been kidnapped, had evaporated the second Laurel had fainted at his feet.  
  
He put her on one of the beds and helped Madam Pomfrey to undress the patient. The matron looked at him rather piqued, when he removed Laurel's night-shirt without hesitation. But when she saw the black bruises on Laurel's back, all prudence was forgotten. She tutted worriedly and went to fetch a salve, while Snape stood there, petrified. Nobody paid him any attention. Sirius was busy securing Serene and tending to Lupin's injured arm, and Madam Pomfrey crushed sweet-smelling herbs in a mortar to add to the salve.  
  
He stared at the bruises. He knew quite well that it hadn't been Serene who had inflicted them. These were old contusions, traces of the night when he had returned from Voldemort.  
  
"Forgive me, Laurel," he whispered soundlessly. He had to let her go. Make her go, if needed. He brought her nothing but pain. And with Voldemort's poison destroying what was left of his soul, he would eventually bring her … death.  
  
"Professor Snape?" Madame Pomfrey tugged on his sleeve. He gave a start.  
  
"I thought …," she blushed a little, "since you seem to know Miss Hunter quite intimately, you'd help me treat her bruises?"  
  
She pointed at the bowl with salve.  
  
"I …Yes, let me help you," he agreed quietly. Scrupulously he applied the ointment to Laurel's bruised skin while Poppy checked her head for wounds.  
  
"She is only dehydrated," the matron diagnosed. "If we get her to drink, she'll be as good as new by tomorrow.  
  
Snape covered Laurel's body with a sheet. "Will you take care for her while I go and try to contact Headmaster Dumbledore in London?"  
  
Before Poppy could open her mouth a soft voice answered from the door. "No need to leave her, Severus. I am already here."  
  
The old wizard approached the bed and placed his hand on Laurel's forehead. "Wake up, child," he said quietly.  
  
She stirred and opened her eyes. When her vision cleared she recognised the Headmaster, Madame Pomfrey and, on the other side of the bed, Snape. Without thinking she reached for his hand. "I knew you would come. What took you so long?" she croaked.  
  
Helplessly Snape let her nestle her cheek to his palm. 'Just once more,' he promised himself silently.  
  
"You must drink this," Madame Pomfrey ordered and held a large glass of pumpkin juice to Laurel's lips. "And another one every twenty minutes."  
  
Satisfied Laurel pushed the glass back. When she sat up, her eyes widened in sudden recollection. "Serene? Where is she?"  
  
"She is back there, in the private room." Sirius Black leaned against a desk and watched the scene from hooded eyes.  
  
"Can you tell us what happened, Laurel?" Dumbledore inquired.  
  
"She … had a poisoned candle. All I remember is that I fell asleep and woke up in that spooky vanishing chamber. Then Serene came and told me she had no choice but to keep me imprisoned." Laurel shrugged. "She kept repeating these words. 'I don't have a choice.' She sounded quite desperate."  
  
"Desperate!" Sirius muttered under his breath. "Crazy more likely."  
  
"But she never told me, why."  
  
Dumbledore looked at Snape. His blue eyes searched the Potions master's stony face. "How did you find them, Severus?"  
  
Snape gave him a bitter grin. "Allies. You said it yourself, Albus. In times of danger we need to work together."  
  
"You asked … him?" Laurel pointed at Black, incredulously..  
  
Snape shrugged with stressed indifference. "When you didn't show up at breakfast …," his voice quavered for an instance and told Laurel that he had interpreted her absence as a reaction to what had happened between the two of them. "I could not find you. I remembered they … James and Lupin and Black … had a map back then."  
  
"The Marauders' map," Dumbledore smiled. "Good thought, Severus."  
  
Black frowned. "You knew about the map all the time?"  
  
"It doesn't make a difference, does it, Sirius?"  
  
"Well, it takes all the fun out of it," he muttered.  
  
"I asked Lupin for the map, and he went to Black who, if I understood correctly, went to Mr Potter to get the map." Snape bared his teeth. "I won't ask what a fifth year needs a map of all the secret passages and rooms of Hogwarts for. At least not today."  
  
"Anyway, on the map we could see a dot representing Laurel. But it wandered through the castle in completely erratic ways. Through walls, vertically through floors. At first we thought the map was faulty. After all it is quite old by now," Sirius explained. "But then Lupin remembered the vanishing chambers."  
  
"All we had to do was find out when the chamber was to appear again connected to one of the steady rooms." Snape had started to prowl the room to keep away from Laurel. "And then we saw Miss Kennedy enter a bedroom carrying a tray with food."  
  
"We should give Miss Hunter a spot of privacy," Madame Pomfrey ordered and resolutely closed the curtains around the bed. She brought Laurel a robe and a pair of slippers and another glass of juice. Then she checked Laurel's forehead. "Don't forget to drink. Otherwise rest is the only thing you need."  
  
When she pulled the curtains back, Laurel saw Dumbledore and Black stand by the bed in the small room. Serene lay there, restrained by silvery cords. Lupin sat at her side, his face still marred with dried blood where it had hit the wall. His shabby robe was torn at the shoulder and his right arm in a sling. When Laurel approached the bed, he smiled at her sadly.  
  
"How do you feel, Laurel?"  
  
She shrugged. "I am fine. I only fainted from dehydration."  
  
He turned to Black. "Get Laurel a chair, Sirius, will you?"  
  
With a mocking grin Black bowed and offered Laurel a seat. She was too tired to be annoyed.  
  
Dumbledore laid a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Severus went to get some Veritaserum."  
  
"Veritaserum?"  
  
"We need to find out why Miss Kennedy thought she had to abduct you."  
  
Snape stepped out of the chimney, brushing ashes off his robes, his eyes frantically searching the room when he found Laurel's bed empty. With some effort he forced the expressionless mask back on his face and passed the Headmaster the minute flacon Laurel had seen once in the Potions lab.  
  
"Is this really necessary?" Lupin asked in a strained voice. Serene was awake but kept staring at the ceiling. "This stuff has grave side effects."  
  
"She'll vomit and have a sore head for a while. So what?" Snape fumed.  
  
Dumbledore coughed to get their attention. „Let's try to get this over with as fast as possible. You know, Remus, that it is for her own best."  
  
Lupin took Serene's limp hand into his when Dumbledore cupped her chin and made her open her mouth, gently but relentlessly. He counted three drops on the witches tongue. Then, looking at Sirius and Snape, he nodded. "You will be witnesses to this hearing."  
  
"A Death Eater, a Werewolf and a Fugitive from Azkaban," mocked Sirius. "No jury in the world would sentence her on the basis of our testimony."  
  
"I hope we won't need a jury." Dumbledore looked into Serene's eyes. "Tell me your name, girl."  
  
"My name is Sarah Kennedy," Serene stated, utterly indifferent.  
  
"Isn't your name Serene?"  
  
"Serene is the name I have chosen for myself when I discovered my … talent. But Sarah is my given name."  
  
"Did you place a poisoned candle in Laurel Hunter's room?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Where did you get it from?"  
  
"I asked Ben Olsen to buy one for me in Knockturn Alley on his way back from Sweden."  
  
"Tell us about what happened after Laurel fainted."  
  
"I levitated her out of her bedroom and took her to the vanishing chamber. I cast a Full Body-Bind and left her there."  
  
Snape scowled. "You left her there? Bound and unconscious?"  
  
Serene answered quietly as if discussing the weather. "The chamber is only connected to the bedroom for 15 minutes every day. I could not wait or I would have been caught with her."  
  
Laurel leaned closer and searched the other woman's eyes. "But why, Serene? What made you think you had to lock me away?"  
  
"Because you would not leave. I have tried everything. It was my fault you came to Hogwarts in the beginning …"  
  
"I thought the Ministry sent me?" Laurel asked Dumbledore and the Headmaster nodded.  
  
"We were informed that they had a … strange incident and so Minerva went to London to be present at the examination."  
  
"I set fire to the reading room at the National Library," Serene remarked calmly.  
  
Lupin winced.  
  
"I knew your face so well but when I saw you there, I reacted instinctively. I made sure the room was empty, before I set fire. I even locked the door."  
  
"She speaks the truth," Dumbledore confirmed.  
  
"How could you know my face, Serene? We have never met before we both went on the train to Hogwarts," Laurel interfered.  
  
"I saw you," Serene's eyes flashed. "Since I was a child, I saw you. Standing there, raising your hands … inciting him," she nodded towards Snape, "inciting him to … kill."  
  
"Kill whom, Serene," Lupin asked softly.  
  
"Headmaster Dumbledore."  
  
For a moment nobody knew what to say. Then Snape exploded.  
  
"Utter nonsense!"  
  
"I would never …," stammered Laurel, "never …"  
  
Dumbledore gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "We all know that, Laurel. Nevertheless Miss Kennedy claims she has seen you."  
  
"She has visions," Lupin said. He rose from the bedside and began pacing the small room like a caged animal. "I found her once in the solar, writhing in pain."  
  
"That's the reason for her appointment as Professor Trelawney's assistant."  
  
"Divinations!" Snape fumed and stared at Serene as if he'd strangle her right there if it wasn't for the other wizards. "Voodoo. What shall we do next? Fight Voldemort by sticking pins into his effigy?"  
  
"I agree," Sirius said, "though I am loath to admit it."  
  
"But I saw it happen," Serene insisted. "Again and again. And I saw Voldemort rise, and the world fall apart. Always the same scene. I came to fear that face." Her gaze fell at Laurel. "And when I saw you that day, I just couldn't believe you were real."  
  
"So you decided to …"  
  
"Stop the future," Lupin finished her sentence. "She tried to take you out of the equation to prevent her vision coming true."  
  
"For Merlin's sake, Lupin! You don't believe this crap about me killing Dumbledore?" Snape's face was contorted with anger. Laurel reached out for his hand, but he shifted as if he wanted to avoid any physical contact with her.  
  
"What we believe is not important," Lupin sighed. "Serene, did you intend to kill Laurel?"  
  
"No. I told you before, I made sure the room was empty. I only wanted to scare her away."  
  
"Scare her away!" The Potions master's hands gripped the back of Laurel's chair. "It was only luck she did not die when you poisoned her."  
  
"I only wanted her to get sick. So sick she would be sent away. But I must have got something wrong when I mixed the potion."  
  
"Now what does that tell us about Snape's virtue as Potions master, if his students can't even produce a simple emetic?"  
  
"Oh shut up, Black, will you?"  
  
Laurel shot him an exasperated glance that silenced him. Her head throbbed viciously. All she wanted was some sleep and an opportunity to talk to Severus in private. And what she got was a crazy story about visions and Voldemort, and grown men bickering like schoolboys.  
  
"When they sent you to Beauxbatons, I thought you were gone for good. I hoped you had fallen out with Professor Snape and …," her eyes filled with tears, "found another lover."  
  
Suddenly Laurel understood. All those times, when Serene had pretended to be indifferent to Lupin's open interest. The foolish woman would have sacrificed her own happiness to keep Laurel and Snape apart. Because then, maybe, the vision would not come true.  
  
"You must send her away, Headmaster," Serene pleaded. "Otherwise you will get killed. By him." She stared at Snape with narrowed eyes.  
  
"Well, you will have plenty of time to reconsider your visions in Azkaban," Snape said with a vitriolic sneer.  
  
"No!" Lupin exclaimed, pale as death.  
  
Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Laurel?"  
  
"Headmaster?"  
  
"What do you suggest should happen to her? Do you want her to go to Azkaban?"  
  
"She'd be dead or crazy after a few weeks." Black's voice was indifferent but his eyes burned.  
  
"Laurel would be dead now if we hadn't found the antidote to that poison," Snape thundered.  
  
"But we did, didn't we?" Dumbledore stroked his beard. "And it is up to us to prove Miss Kennedy's visions wrong."  
  
"You can't do this, Albus!" Snape bared his teeth. "The witch is mad. She'll try to kill Laurel again."  
  
"I remember a stormy night more than sixteen years ago, Severus," said the old wizard softly. "Then I gave a young man a second chance although he himself did not believe he was worthy. One of my best decisions not to deliver him to the Dementors, I still believe."  
  
In the end Snape agreed grudgingly to let Serene stay at Hogwarts, if Lupin vouched for her keeping away from Laurel. Then he turned and left the hospital room without another word to Laurel.  
  
She was too tired to think about it at the moment, and thankfully accepted Madame Pomfrey's offer to walk her to her bedroom. Not even picking up the wash-stand she slipped under the covers. Tomorrow she'd go and deal with Snape. So he didn't believe in words? She'd make him talk. As soon as her head touched the pillow she was asleep.  
  
* * * 


	15. Lights in the Darkness

15, Lights in the Darkness  
  
When Laurel entered the Great Hall the next morning, she frowned. Something was wrong. There were hardly more than a dozen students at the tables. Then she remembered. The Christmas holidays had started three days ago, and Christmas day had passed without her noticing it. While the children had unwrapped their presents, she had tried to break open the door in the vanishing chamber.  
  
She sat down at the High Table and saw that half of the chairs were empty, among them Black's, Serene's and Dumbledore's. And Snape's. Well, if he intended to avoid her, he was in for a surprise. She would corner him, if necessary even use a spell - Full Body-Bind seemed to work just fine, as she remembered - and if he wouldn't talk, he'd have to listen still.  
  
But first there was breakfast. Since she had not eaten in days, she enjoyed her porridge very much. Somebody passed her a plate of cinnamon buns.  
  
"You like these, don't you?"  
  
"Remus." She swallowed and exhaled satisfied. "How are you? How is your arm?"  
  
He shrugged. "We ... Werewolves that is ... heal very fast."  
  
"How is Serene?"  
  
"She'll be fine. It is her state of mind that worries me. Not her concussion and the cracked ribs."  
  
Laurel sighed. "I should have held Severus back. But I was so confused and exhausted ..."  
  
He put a hand on hers. "It is not your fault. And I don't really blame Snape either. You should have seen him when it became clear that you had disappeared. He was out of his mind."  
  
"Did he really ask you for help?"  
  
"Not only me but Black of all people. It cost him a lot but he did it. I have never seen him so scared." He cocked his head and a boyish smile flitted over his weary face. "Only when he saw me change the first time."  
  
"He saw you?"  
  
"When I was admitted to Hogwarts, a secret place was arranged for me where I could change every month. Snape and Sirius ... they didn't get along all too well. So one day Sirius sent Snape right into my cave. James Potter, Harry's dad, pulled him back the last moment, and I only got a glimpse of his face."  
  
"So Black really tried to murder Severus. You would have killed him, wouldn't you?" she asked anxiously.  
  
He nodded slowly. "I am not really my self when I change, Laurel. I mean, the human part is still there, but the animal is stronger. I feel and react like a wolf then. And a wolf would kill any intruder."  
  
"And the potion Severus brewed for you?"  
  
"It works as a strong sedative. Imagine a sleepwalking wolf. That's me."  
  
Laurel had to laugh at his self-mocking grin. But she remembered from her Potions book that Wolfsbane had serious side-effects. It was after all a poison.  
  
"It's still better than racking my brain every time what I might have done, who I might have attacked," Remus continued, serious again.  
  
"Did you tell Serene about it or did she find out like all the others when Severus exposed you?"  
  
"I ... told her before." He blushed.  
  
"And? How did she take it?"  
  
"She promised to keep it a secret."  
  
"That's all?"  
  
He shook his head. "She made it very clear that she was not interested in me."  
  
"But, Remus, she said yesterday ..."  
  
Before she could finish the sentence, Dumbledore entered the Great Hall. On his way he paused at the student's table for a minute and talked to some of the kids. They all laughed, obviously delighted about a joke. But when he faced the High Table, his smile gave way to tiredness and apprehension.  
  
"Laurel, Remus," he nodded. "Good morning to you both. How is Miss Kennedy, Remus?"  
  
Lupin rose from his chair. "Thank you, Headmaster. She was still asleep when I left. Black is guarding her right now."  
  
"We shall not keep her a prisoner, mind that. She must learn that we trust her."  
  
Remus smiled shakily. "I'll go to relieve Sirius. He'll be hungry."  
  
"If you see Mr Olsen, ask him to see me at my study, will you? I need to talk to him."  
  
"About the candle?"  
  
"About the candle and other things."  
  
Remus left, and Dumbledore took his vacant seat.  
  
He searched the table.  
  
"Severus did not come to breakfast?"  
  
"I don't know," said Laurel. "I was late myself. Maybe he left before ..."  
  
"No, Severus has not shown up all morning," Professor Flitwick chimed in. His tiny hand patted Laurel's. "Are you all right, my dear?"  
  
"I am fine," she smiled. Obviously everybody knew already about what had happened. It was impossible to keep a secret in Hogwarts.  
  
"Then I suggest you go looking for him, Laurel." Dumbledore rose. "There was a summons last night after he left the Hospital wing. He was in a sad state when he returned but would not let me wake you up."  
  
Laurel bit her lip. While she had slept dreamlessly, Severus had again entered the realm of the Dark. "Is it absolutely necessary that he goes there?" she asked Dumbledore while they left the Hall.  
  
"It is Severus' decision. The information he gathers could be crucial."  
  
"But haven't you noticed how he changed lately? It is as if he was slowly poisoned or drugged."  
  
The Headmaster paused at a statue of Helga Hufflepuff, smiling serenely, a badger at her feet. "Then you must tell him to quit."  
  
Laurel stared at him in astonishment. "I? What right should I have to tell him such a thing?"  
  
"You are tied to him, Laurel. I am afraid neither of you has fully understood what that means. You are a unit now. If Severus gets hurt, you will suffer. As he suffered the last days."  
  
She avoided his gaze. How did the old wizard do it? How did he make her feel he could look right into her heart?  
  
"He won't listen."  
  
"He will, if you tell him the truth."  
  
"The truth?" She still studied the intricate pattern of the marble tiles in the Entrance Hall.  
  
The Headmaster cupped her chin and made her look up at him. "That you can't go on like this."  
  
"How did you know?" she whispered. Tears welled up.  
  
He passed her a large purple handkerchief.  
  
"When Minerva brought you to Hogwarts, at the Sorting feast, I saw Severus stare at you. I could see a ray of light between the two of you. And don't deceive yourself like Severus does. Passion is a strong tie, but not strong enough to save him."  
  
"But love is?" Laurel met his gaze, calmer now, stronger.  
  
"Love is," he agreed.  
  
* * *  
  
Laurel knocked at the door of the Potions master's quarters. Nobody answered. When she turned to leave the dungeons, she heard muffled voices from the classroom. The door was slightly ajar and she pushed it open, only to find Snape standing in the middle of the dimly lit room.  
  
For a moment he remained unaware of her presence. He seemed utterly alone, separated from the world by a barrier of despair. Laurel's heart ached. She was ready to forget everything, forget why she had come, forget what she had to tell him. Only to hug him.  
  
She cleared her throat.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
He froze. "Who let you in?"  
  
Laurel pointed at the door. "It was not locked. It was not even closed."  
  
"Oh." He rubbed his forehead and sighed. "I am getting careless."  
  
"I heard voices. Who were you talking to?"  
  
"Nobody."  
  
"You are tired."  
  
His face showed deep creases, the dark eyes hollow. The wiry tall body was huddled in robes that were torn and stained. The corner of his mouth was encrusted with blood, and as Laurel stepped closer she noticed the makeshift bandage at his left wrist.  
  
"What happened?" she asked softly.  
  
"Nothing." He tried to hide his hand behind his back like a little boy.  
  
"I thought the ... tie ... between us gave me the right to tend to your wounds. To look after you when you come back from Voldemort."  
  
"Laurel, I ..." He was lost for words.  
  
"No. You listen to me, Snape! For a long time I let you get away with this silence of yours because I did not want to hurt you."  
  
"But now you want to ... hurt me?" His eyes shot dark flashes.  
  
Laurel sighed and sat at a desk. "No. But I can't go on like this."  
  
"I never ..."  
  
"You never promised me anything," she finished the sentence for him. "You warned me off from the start. You told me you would never love me and you could not give me anything but ... sex." She smiled dreamily. "Wow, and the sex was great, by the way."  
  
He stepped closer, until he was only a heartbeat away. Without a word he laid his hands on either side of her waist, pulling her against him. So close she couldn't help noticing that he was hard and ready under the folds of fabric.  
  
He stared down at her, his face drawn with need. He lifted her up until her mouth was at the same level as his and once more she was surprised about his strength. Holding her breath, she gave in to his exploring tongue. The taste of him was intoxicating, and she kissed him back, almost swaying with sudden heat.  
  
His hands searched her body under the robe. The long elegant fingers brushed her breast, slid under the silky bra, playing over her hardened nipples. Laurel moaned and bit her tongue.  
  
He whispered into her ear. "Say that you want me."  
  
The play of his fingers made her shudder. All she wanted was his naked skin against hers, his hot breath on her belly. All she wanted was him to fill her, to be as close as possible, be inside her. When he lifted her onto a desk, she answered the moves of his body, fell into his rhythm naturally. Only then a tiny voice in some corner of her mind called her back. Because this was not all she wanted. What she really, really wanted was to ...  
  
Shakily her hands opened the fastening of his robe, made the torn fabric slide off his shoulders. Her fingertips touched the scarred skin on his back, drew ever so gentle circles, wove a net of warmth and loving all around him. He stifled a moan. Grabbing both her wrists in an iron hold, he forced her hands away from him.  
  
"Don't, Laurel."  
  
With all the force she could muster, she pushed him away.  
  
"No."  
  
It hurt. She's never assumed it would hurt so much. The effort left her shaking. His eyes were vacant when he stepped away. Painfully she tried to keep her voice steady.  
  
"Not like this, Severus. The next time we won't just have sex. We'll make love. As equals."  
  
He gripped the edge of the desk so hard his knuckles turned white.  
  
"I can't give you any of the things you need, Laurel. No warmth. No love. No ... tenderness. I thought I had made that clear the very first evening. You told me you didn't mind."  
  
Laurel jumped off her desk, agitated, and stepped towards him. His robes were torn at the collar. Accepting no resistance she took his hand into hers and studied the bandaged wrist.  
  
"Living without your love would be hard but I could do it. But what I can't do is live without this."  
  
She lifted his wrist to her lips and kissed the injured spot softly. When he winced, she let go, smiling sadly. "You see? I ... I can't live without giving. I deluded myself. I thought I could just take. But I was wrong."  
  
"I want you to leave Hogwarts, Laurel."  
  
He said it in a cool indifferent voice, as he had practised it so many times.  
  
Her face fell. Her bottom lip started to tremble. But still she stood her ground. Arms crossed she looked up at him.  
  
"Why?"  
  
He bared his teeth. How he had dreaded this moment! Since the first time when she had waited for him after a summons and had comforted him - against his will. Even then he had told himself, that with every time he gave in to his longing it would be harder in the end to let her leave. But she had not made it that easy for him. She had not left. So he had to make her go.  
  
"Because I don't want you here."  
  
"Severus ..."  
  
"Don't you see it, woman? I am already in too deep."  
  
"You once told me all you wanted was honesty, if you ever got lost in this web of deceit. You must stop this, Severus. It eats you up."  
  
He inhaled deeply and clenched his fists.  
  
"Don't worry about me. I can take it."  
  
"No, you can't. Do you think I am blind? Do you think I don't know what it does to you? Your anger, your vile mood, the violence ..." her voice faltered.  
  
He sneered. "That's who I am, Laurel. Cruel. Violent. Abusive. I told you before. You picked the most undesirable subject as your bedfellow."  
  
"You are neither." She shook her head sadly. "Neither undesirable nor just my ... bedfellow." She reached out to touch his shoulder. Snape stepped back against the wall.  
  
"Severus, when Dumbledore suggested this ... tie, I was not sure about you. You took great pains to convince everybody of this mask."  
  
He jerked back as if she had hit him.  
  
"I have rarely seen your true face. But not even you can keep up a disguise like that all the time. Even the master of deceit talks in his sleep."  
  
He paled.  
  
"Don't worry, I didn't understand most things you said." That was not strictly true. She had understood whole sentences, had heard him plead with someone. "I saw your true face when you gave Neville that kitten."  
  
"I didn't give it to him. He took it!"  
  
She went on without listening to his muttered protest.  
  
"I saw your true face when you showed me the singing shells in the library, when you stepped between me and the unicorn. And I saw your true face every night, when you put your own needs last."  
  
"I raped you," he stated flatly. "How can you ever forgive what I did to you that night?"  
  
She bit her lip and shrugged. "I was hurt. And very angry. And I don't want it to happen again. But it doesn't change the facts. That I love you."  
  
"No!" His fist hit the wall.  
  
She touched his hand only to be pushed aside. Snape's face was pale as death when he turned to her. "I don't want you here anymore. I want you to leave. I can't afford to waste my energy with these ... foolish emotions of yours."  
  
"Not even you can stand alone through this. Nobody can live without love."  
  
"I can. I did so all my live."  
  
"You are falling apart, Severus. What will you do if Voldemort gets stronger? You told me once you used to be his hound and hunter. And this time? Will you kill for him if he demands it?"  
  
"You don't know what you are talking about." His voice was a mere whisper.  
  
"I understand very well. You are scared. Not of Voldemort. But of love and what it could do to you."  
  
"Laurel ..."  
  
"But becoming like him won't defeat Voldemort."  
  
"OUT!" He pointed at the door. "Get out NOW, Laurel, before I ..."  
  
"You win." She bit back her tears. "For now. I'll leave Hogwarts. But don't kid yourself. You can't forbid me to love you. And you can't make me stop."  
  
"I can. I must."  
  
She slammed the door and ran up the stairs. Only when she reached the Hall, she noticed that tears streamed from her eyes and almost blinded her.  
  
* * *  
  
Dumbledore still stood at the doorway to the Great Hall where she had left him. Laurel grit her teeth. It was hard but it had to be said.  
  
"I have to leave, Headmaster. I don't care whether the Ministry agree or not. If I must, I shall return to their guest-house."  
  
"But Laurel, Severus needs ..."  
  
"He needs nobody. All we had was mutual passion. It was good while it lasted but now it is over."  
  
"And therefore, after you tore out his heart, you leave."  
  
"Tore out his heart? That's unlikely," she snapped.  
  
The old wizard's smile vanished completely and suddenly he held the authority his title and reputation called for.  
  
"He saved your live."  
  
She just stared into a void.  
  
"Three times he saved your live. The first time in the Forbidden Forrest, the second time when Serene poisoned your dinner. Last night he swallowed his pride and asked Black, a man he despises, for help to find you. And you, Miss Hunter, doubt his heart."  
  
No answer.  
  
"He is dying, Laurel, and you desert him."  
  
He stepped closer and made her look at him. Only then he noticed that her face was pale and streaked with tears. His harsh tone softened. "What is it, dear girl? Why do you do this to him? I never thought you cruel."  
  
"I would never hurt him." She bit her lip in silent desperation. "He is not dying. He is only exhausted."  
  
"You talk about his body. I talk about his soul."  
  
The little posture she still held, cracked and Dumbledore could only hold her while she helplessly cried in his arms.  
  
"Well, well." He gently patted her back.  
  
"I didn't leave him, Headmaster. I didn't. He sent me away."  
  
"I already thought so," the old wizard sighed.  
  
"For months I lied. I lied to myself and I lied to him. I tried to convince myself that I could live like this. But I can't."  
  
"And you shouldn't," Dumbledore drew her next to him on a bench. "When I chose you for Severus, I knew you were a giver."  
  
"A ... giver?"  
  
"You need to give love, warmth, tenderness, to feel fulfilled. Although you always tried to restrain that desire."  
  
"Sometimes it almost chokes me. But I know I am smothering whoever I love."  
  
"Now, Severus needs to learn to take yet. But you never need to fear that you'd give him too much love. It will take years and years of loving to make up for the long time of starvation."  
  
"His time as a Death Eater?"  
  
"His whole life," Dumbledore said softly. "Wizards joined Voldemort's army for many reasons. Money, revenge, opportunism. Severus wanted power. He needed it."  
  
Laurel shook her head. "But why? Black told me he was from a rich family."  
  
"Did Sirius tell you about Severus' father, Julian?"  
  
"Only that he died."  
  
"I shall not betray the trust Severus honours me with and tell you what Julian did to him. Only one thing: If the sixteen year old Severus had been taken to Azkaban, the Dementors wouldn't have noticed him at all."  
  
"Not a single happy thought." Laurel's voice faltered.  
  
"I know you had a good childhood."  
  
She nodded.  
  
"And you felt loved and safe in the presence of your parents."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"It shows. It radiates from you. No wonder Severus, with his empty heart, felt so attracted to you. And that's how I knew you were the one who could safe him."  
  
"Headmaster?" Laurel studied his face. "Why do you care so much about Severus? I assume you don't arrange `ties' for all your staff, do you?"  
  
He chuckled. "No, I don't. Although Minerva ..." He cleared his throat and got serious again. "I abandoned him once when he was still a student. In a way I am part responsible for him joining Voldemort."  
  
"How?"  
  
"He has to tell you himself, and I am positive he will, one day. But there is another reason why I was searching for somebody who would fill the void in his soul." He drew his wand from his sleeve. "Let me show you something."  
  
A muttered spell, and the Great Hall went dark. Laurel waved her hand in front of her eyes but could not even make out its contour.  
  
"This is Voldemort's essence. The impervious darkness," Dumbledore explained softly. It seeps into the heart, it encompasses the mind. This is what he craves. Emptiness. Coldness. Death."  
  
Laurel shuddered involuntarily. The darkness seemed almost palpable.  
  
"But then," Dumbledore snipped his fingers, "there was light."  
  
A tiny flame appeared in the infinite darkness, flickering bluish and weakly.  
  
"Harry's mum," Laurel breathed and couldn't tear her eyes from the lonesome flame.  
  
"No." The Headmaster's voice sounded far away. "This was almost a year before Lilly Potter gave up her life to save Harry's."  
  
The candle fought the assault of darkness bravely. Laurel felt the sudden urge to shield it.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
"His decision to break away from Voldemort. That was long before the Dark Lord's reign crumbled. He was at the height of his power then. Just consider: Voldemort gave Severus everything he desired. Power. Inviolability. And still Severus withdrew. He is living prove that, no matter how encompassing Voldemort's power is, one always has a choice. No matter what way leads you into darkness, there will be a way that leads you back into the light."  
  
"He came to you."  
  
"And returned, as a spy, well knowing that if he was ever found out ..."  
  
"Voldemort would kill him," whispered Laurel.  
  
"No, he would not. What Voldemort has in store for those who betray him is much worse than death."  
  
Silence followed his words. The tiny flame flickered and fought but stayed alive.  
  
Then another light appeared. Larger than the first, warm and golden.  
  
"Lilly," explained Dumbledore with great compassion. "Her ultimate sacrifice."  
  
More flames lit in the darkness and each ate away from the black. Domes of light aligned and formed a half circle.  
  
"Ronald Weasley risking his life so Harry could save the Philosopher's stone. Harry fighting Voldemort at the graveyard. Dobby, the house-elf. Sirius, breaking out from Azkaban to keep Pettygrew from hurting his godson. Remus, overcoming his self-hatred and insecurity. Even Serene, trying to prevent a terrible fate. They all fought the darkness."  
  
Laurel could see his face now, so strong was the light of the candles.  
  
"For a while we thought that we needed a hero, a warrior to overcome Voldemort. But we were wrong. This," he stretched out his hands towards the light, "is what will defeat him in the end. All that is good. All that distinguishes the human existence - love, compassion, honour, self-sacrifice. And one day the circle shall be closed and the darkness will perish for ever."  
  
He cleared his throat. "We can't afford to lose any of these lights. Especially not Severus."  
  
Laurel felt her heart go out to the old wizard. At times he seemed so powerful and untouchable but right now he was just fragile and worried.  
  
"I love him."  
  
"I know." He smiled. "But now it is up to him to take the next step."  
  
"Will you look after him when I am gone?"  
  
"I will. Take heart, Laurel. The right way is not always the easy way."  
  
"But how does one know the right way?"  
  
He patted her arm and rose from the bench with a sigh. "That's simple. You just follow your heart."  
  
* * * 


	16. A Long Farewell

16, A Long Farewell  
  
How was it possible to acquire so many things in the few months she had stayed at Hogwarts? Where had all the books come from, the robes, the ... things?  
  
A soft knocking at the door interrupted Laurel's musing - and for a brief moment she hoped it was Severus. But when she answered the door she found Neville instead.  
  
"Hi Neville," she smiled. "Won't you come in? Sorry about the mess."  
  
He sought a way through the heaps of books and clothes and finally took a seat on top of a trunk.  
  
"How is Furball?"  
  
"He is growing fast."  
  
The name Neville had chosen for the kitten did not show much imagination but fit well, although the once tiny Furball had now almost the size of a bludger.  
  
"Harry told me you were leaving. So it is true?"  
  
"I am afraid so."  
  
"But ..." He blushed and stared at the floor. "He can't make you leave, can he?"  
  
"He?"  
  
"Professor Snape."  
  
"Neville!" Laurel kneeled down before him and made him look at her. "You got it all wrong. I don't leave because Severus ... I mean, Professor Snape ... told me so." Ah, Laurel Hunter, she scolded herself, now you lie to a fifth year. And not even he believes what you say ...  
  
"I leave because it is the best for the time being."  
  
Neville blushed even more and looked like a beetroot in a robe. "Mione said you were a tragic heroine."  
  
"A what?" Despite her sadness she had to laugh.  
  
"Like Juliet from the Muggle play. Or like Esmee Kells who threw herself off a tower when her lover married another."  
  
She really tried to remain serious, but just couldn't. "Oh Neville, I am neither Juliet nor ... what was her name? Esmee. I won't poison myself or commit any other kind of suicide."  
  
"But Hermione said ..."  
  
"Miss Granger seems to be an expert in love and romance, isn't she?"  
  
He nodded fervently. "She also said that Professor Snape loved you but would sooner swallow his own potions than admit it. And that he scared you away so he needn't deal with it."  
  
Laurel swallowed. Miss Granger obviously knew more about the human condition than many grown-ups.  
  
"Neville," she said softly. "Love is a difficult thing. You can love somebody but you can't make them love you back."  
  
"I know that." He gave her a lopsided grin.  
  
"It would be easy if love just vanished if unrequited. But it doesn't."  
  
"That's why you are leaving? Because he doesn't love you back? But Mione said ..."  
  
"If Hermione said Professor Snape loved me, she was wrong. Once in her life."  
  
"Then he is a damned idiot."  
  
"You should not call your Professor an idiot." She smiled. How many times had she called Severus an idiot - or worse - since he had told her to leave?  
  
"He doesn't deserve you. How can he not love you, Miss Hunter? He is just a merciless ugly arrogant tyrant and ..."  
  
"Wait, Neville," she took his hand to calm him. "He is not. He is not a tyrant and he is not without mercy. And I don't think him ugly. I admit he is arrogant, though."  
  
"It's just that I can't imagine ... how anybody could be in love with him."  
  
"That's good." Laurel smiled. "It would worry me if you were in love with him, too."  
  
He laughed shakily. "Where will you go? Will you write to me?"  
  
She shrugged. "I really have no idea. I expect it to be London, but I don't know my address yet. But don't the owls find anybody they are sent to?"  
  
"If you live in London, I could visit you when I go there next month," he suggested and the thought seemed to cheer him up.  
  
"It is only January next month. Why are you allowed to go to London in the middle of term?"  
  
"I ... I visit my parents."  
  
"Oh." Laurel rose and bit her lip, suddenly awkward. She had known that Neville grew up with his Granny and had assumed his parents were dead.  
  
"They are in St. Mungo's, that's a hospital."  
  
"Send me an owl, Neville, and we shall go and eat one of those legendary ice-cream wonders at Florescue's everybody keeps telling me about."  
  
All morning visitors seemed to take turns to keep Laurel from packing. A whole bunch of first years showed up, giggling and pushing, to present her with a moving picture of them. They had even persuaded Professor Binns to pose for the picture and so there was a bluish blur behind the waving children.  
  
Next came Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley, Hermione searching her face - for signs of tragic heroism, as Laurel suspected. Hadn't she felt so miserable, she'd been tempted to act a little more distressed, just to please Hermione. But as it was, all she could do was show them a brave face and promise to return - a promise she was not sure she could keep.  
  
* * *  
  
After lunch she decided to pay Serene a visit. The witch was still in the Hospital wing, and from what Remus had told Laurel, had not spoken to anybody since the effects of the Veritaserum had worn off.  
  
When she opened the door, she found Serene alone, rolled into a tight ball, the covers over her head. She appeared to be sleeping. Laurel paused and looked at the bed.  
  
"I am leaving, Serene," she said softly. "I've come to ..."  
  
She didn't know how to continue. It would have been a blatant lie to tell Serene she had forgiven her. The fearful hours in the vanishing chamber would be neither forgotten nor forgiven for a long time. But still, she pitied Serene for her obvious despair even if she could not fully comprehend the reason of the witch's actions.  
  
"I am here to say goodbye. I wish we'd had more time to talk."  
  
Serene rolled over, slowly and awkward like somebody who had been sick for a long time and had almost forgotten the use of their limbs.  
  
"You leave," she croaked. "Because you understand now?"  
  
"No." Laurel drew a chair to the side of the bed. "Serene, nobody can see the future."  
  
"I did."  
  
"There is not sign that Severus would ever rise a hand against Dumbledore. I am not saying he is a gentle man or adverse to physical force, but ... If there is anybody in this world he respects, even ... loves, it is Albus Dumbledore. Why would he kill him?"  
  
Serene sighed. "All I see is that one moment, one scene. I see you standing on a window sill and ..."  
  
"A window sill? Why that?"  
  
"I don't know!" Serene rubbed her temples. "Heaven, doesn't anybody ever listen to what I say? I have no idea why you stand there, or why Dumbledore is there in this room. Or why Snape looks like an avenging angle."  
  
"Can you describe the room, Miss Kennedy?"  
  
Both witches jerked around. Snape was standing in the door, leaning against the frame.  
  
"Was it a room in Hogwarts?"  
  
Laurel frowned. "Severus, you must not encourage her in ..."  
  
"In my madness?" Serene said. "I know quiet well nobody here believes me. Not even ..." Her voice faltered.  
  
"Even if I do not believe in divinations, I am still interested in what she claims to have seen."  
  
"It was not a Hogwarts room. It looked very ... normal."  
  
"Normal?" Snape's lips twitched. "If this was Laurel speaking I'd assume she meant Muggle."  
  
"But that's what it was, a normal Muggle living room. Tall windows, like in a Victorian house. A fireplace. I don't remember much, only Laurel standing on the window sill and pointing at Dumbledore. There is a lot of darkness."  
  
"A lot of darkness?" Laurel asked. "Night?"  
  
"No, it is more like ... nothingness. It is ... crawling through the room." Serene shuddered and drew the cover closer. "You point at Dumbledore and Snape raises his wand and shouts the Killing Curse."  
  
"And that's all you see?"  
  
"I see Dumbledore die and the room on fire." Serene sniffed. "Remus would not believe me either. I tried so hard ... I was willing to give him up. And now I have lost him."  
  
She rolled away from Laurel and turned towards the wall. "He is leaving as well," she whispered with a voice totally void of hope. "But not for the right reason."  
  
Laurel looked at Snape.  
  
He shrugged.  
  
Madame Pomfrey entered, carrying a tray with food. She gave them a worried nod and ushered them out of the room.  
  
Laurel and Snape left and softly closed the door to the Hospital wing.  
  
"You do believe her!" She stared at him incredulously.  
  
Snape was silent for a moment. When he spoke, the words came painfully and slow, as if he dreaded to hear them aloud.  
  
"All I know is how I sink deeper and deeper into Darkness. The day may come when I drown."  
  
Laurel bit back the tears. "Severus, don't send me away. Let me help you ..."  
  
He held up a hand. "Promise me to go and see Lupin at once."  
  
"That was my intention in the first place. He must not do a runner. Serene needs him here, and he is so in love with her ..."  
  
"Lupin is in love with her?"  
  
Laurel shook her head sadly. "Are you blind? It is all but written on his forehead! But ... Why else do you want me to see him so urgently?"  
  
"He is the DADA teacher. I want him to teach you the Killing Curse."  
  
Her eyes widened.  
  
"The Killing Curse? But why in the world would I need to know any of the Unforgivable Curses, Severus?"  
  
"I still hope that Miss Kennedy is only babbling, but if not ... if I surrender to the Darkness and kill Dumbledore ... I might attack you as well." He closed his eyes for a second and drew a deep breath. "It that happens, I want you to be able to defend yourself."  
  
"By killing you."  
  
He nodded.  
  
Laurel's knees buckled. Had the whole world gone mad? She had to hold on to the wall. Snape waited patiently until she had regained her composure.  
  
"You won't kill Dumbledore," she whispered. "Voldemort will never gain that much of you."  
  
He bowed silently.  
  
Their eyes met and for a moment locked like they had on that first evening more than two years ago.  
  
"So you are ready to leave," he said. It was not a question.  
  
She nodded curtly. With anybody else she had to pretend that it had been her decision to leave Hogwarts, but not with Snape who knew better.  
  
"If I come to your room later to bid you farewell, will you draw your wand?"  
  
"I should," she snapped. "But I won't. I know you are wrong and I am right. That should keep me patient with you. Now you'll excuse me. I have to go and see Remus Lupin. Another ignorant fool!"  
  
She turned on her heel and left him standing in the Hall.  
  
* * *  
  
Apparently Remus owned much less than she, thought Laurel. While her room looked like a battlefield with halfpacked trunks and bags, Lupine's room was tidy, with only a large leather bag next to the fireplace.  
  
Remus smiled at her when he caught her gazing at the luggage. "What?"  
  
Laurel took a seat in the chair he had offered her, but declined tea or coffee. "You are running away."  
  
"I am not," he protested softly. "I've ... decided I'd rather live somewhere else."  
  
"Where? Ah, I remember, you have this happy family in `Somewhere Else'. Or was it the lover you need to meet in `Somewhere Else'?"  
  
He folded his hands and gave her an unhappy smile. "You are trying to be mean, and it doesn't suit you."  
  
Laurel blushed. "I am sorry, Remus. You are right. It is only ..."  
  
She took the poker and stirred the flames to play for time and find the right words. Lupin watched her patiently, his grey eyes filled with pain.  
  
She set the poker aside. "It is strange, how very much alike you are."  
  
He rose an eyebrow curiously. "Who is alike?"  
  
"You and Sirius ... and Severus."  
  
That made him smile, and Laurel breathed out, relieved. So he was not mad at her. "All three too proud for their own good."  
  
"We are not!" he protested. "I mean, I am not. Too proud, that is."  
  
"Then stay!"  
  
He sighed. "I tried, Laurel. But even I can only take so many rebuffs."  
  
"She could love you. Now that she doesn't need to hide her feelings anymore ..."  
  
"I don't think so. Look at me! I am one of the monsters. In many countries they shoot creatures like me at sight."  
  
"So?"  
  
"So?" He clenched his fists. "What woman would want to be with a man who changes into a beast once a month? A man who has to hide who he is, who has to live a lie? Who is not able to hold a steady job?"  
  
Laurel looked at him with tenderness and laid a hand on one of his fists. "Don't belittle yourself. You are intelligent, sensitive and handsome. I could have loved you, Remus."  
  
"Thank you." His smile did not reach his eyes. "But you are the exception from the rule. Although I am not sure if loving Snape isn't worse than loving a Werewolf. At least I am pretty reasonable 27 days a month, while he ..."  
  
"Serene never had a chance to fall in love with you, Remus. She carried that horrible secret and let it govern her life. Just like you. And if anybody can understand how it is to be different, to be an outsider, it is Serene." She stood up and, out of a sudden helplessness, kissed him on the forehead. "Don't make the mistakes I made. Don't let the one you love retire into themselves and shut you out."  
  
* * *  
  
Returning to her room, Laurel conjured a tray with tea and biscuits and went on with packing. But she did not get far. She hadn't even moved half of her books from the shelves into the trunk, when Black entered - without knocking.  
  
Laurel looked up from her trunk, annoyed.  
  
"Did they have no doors in Azkaban?" she snapped and immediately felt sorry.  
  
He froze, but only for a second. Then he threw back his head and laughed wholeheartedly. "Sorry," he held his ribs. "It is just that everybody here tries to avoid the A-word painstakingly when I am present.  
  
"Oh." She relaxed a little. "Tea?"  
  
He accepted a cup and perched on a box.  
  
"We shall take the train early tomorrow morning," he reminded her casually. "Dumbledore has some doubts about your Apparating accuracy, and since I have my own doubts about that broom of yours, the train seemed to be the safest way out."  
  
"That's ok," she shrugged. "I am not in a hurry to go back to the Ministry's guesthouse anyway."  
  
"Guesthouse?"  
  
"Where else can I go? I am not supposed to leave Hogwarts. And the Ministry won't let me go home."  
  
"And you think Dumbledore will deliver you to the Ministry?"  
  
"Deliver me? They sent me here initially. I thought he'd just send me back."  
  
"Now, let me explain the situation to you," Black said slowly as if talking to a stupid child. "Dumbledore and the Ministry are not exactly ... allies. Especially not since they agreed to let Dementors take over internal security. Voldemort has invaded all levels of our government. Dumbledore knows this well. And you are one of his. He would never deliver you to the enemy."  
  
"One of his," Laurel repeated softly.  
  
"He arranged for a small flat near Diagon Alley. It is in a Muggle street, so you won't stick out too much. But people there are used to the occasional owl and funny dressed folks crowding the streets."  
  
He tried to lift her trunk at the handle and groaned. "Listen, why don't you leave these books here? You'll crack within a few weeks anyway and come back. I don't see myself hoisting this thing to London and back again."  
  
Laurel frowned. For a moment she had almost thought him ... nice. A slip of mind, not more. "What do you mean, I'll crack?"  
  
He sat at the trunk and folded his arms behind his neck. "Obviously you try to make Snape do something he doesn't want. What is it? Marry you, or worse - wash his hair?"  
  
"Sirius, I warn you ..."  
  
"By leaving, you intend to punish him for not doing your bidding. But since Snape has no heart you could break, I'd put my money on him this time. Because you won't endure being away from him."  
  
Laurel froze, arms akimbo, not believing her ears. "You may want to leave now, Black, before I do something inexcusable."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Listen, just because you are unhappy you don't need to spread it like a disease."  
  
Black jumped as if she had hit him in the stomach. "What makes you think I am unhappy? You don't know me at all."  
  
"You don't know me either. And you have not seen Severus for more than 15 years, so you have no idea about the man he is today."  
  
They stared at each other, furiously. Laurel won.  
  
When Black left, he avoided her gaze. "Train departs Hogsmeade station at 6.15 am. We'll leave the castle at 6 am then," he muttered and shut the door behind him.  
  
* * *  
  
Laurel sat on the trunk, exhausted and weary. Her ghost pad was full with insults from the Bloody Baron, calling her `wench' and demanding that she ought to `remain and serve the noble Potions master'.  
  
Why did everybody in Hogwarts, alive or not, think they had the right to interfere? What made them think she needed their advise? When she heard the soft knocking at the door she groaned in desperation. The next visitor who'd either pity or insult her ...  
  
She yanked open the door, ready to bow out whoever was there.  
  
"Severus."  
  
He stood in the corridor, lean and tall. Her heart jumped.  
  
"Come in."  
  
"I'd rather not." He looked over her shoulder. "There is no space in there anyway."  
  
She shrugged. "You've come to say good bye?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Will you allow me to hug you?" She braced herself and waited for the inevitable refusal. After all, he hadn't even let her embrace him in bed.  
  
Snape closed his eyes. The long lashes threw dark shadows on the pale skin and made his face even more gaunt than usual.  
  
"Feel free."  
  
When Laurel put her head on his shoulder she felt him shake. A painful sound broke free from his breast - and with any other man Laurel would have called it a sob, but Severus never cried. Not Severus, not her proud Potions master.  
  
She inhaled his scent as a souvenir for the days to come.  
  
"Have you ever been put under the Crucio Curse?" she whispered against his collar and felt him tense.  
  
"Yes," he said slowly. "Many times."  
  
"Many ... times?"  
  
"Why do you ask?" She could tell quite well now when he evaded her questions and did not pry how he could have been tortured with an Unforgivable Curse and mention it as casually as a bout of migraine.  
  
"They say, it hurts worse than anything else."  
  
"They are right." He drew in a shuddering breath. "Why?"  
  
"Because leaving you hurts more than anything I ever felt."  
  
He gently eased away from her.  
  
"I'll never forgive myself for not ending this earlier," he said with studied detachment. "Before it caused you pain. I knew you would not be able to keep love and sex apart."  
  
"Maybe you were right. What is so bad about it? We had great sex - and you get my love as ... a bonus."  
  
"You told me once you saw yourself very clearly. Well, so do I. I know who I am. I don't deserve what you are willing to give."  
  
"Wait!" She raised both hands, palm outwards to shut him up. "I know we had some kind of deal in the beginning. You promised to show me ... lust ... and all you wanted in return was honesty. But love, Severus, love is a gift. You don't need to do anything to deserve it. You get it free."  
  
"Don't fool yourself, Laurel. That's not how it works. People don't love each other for no reason. They love for money, protection, social status, vanity."  
  
"Some love because they don't have a choice."  
  
He looked at her, his face empty and pale. "I was afraid you'd feel that way. Therefore I got you something. Call it a farewell present."  
  
He handed her a small wooden box, one of those she had seen in the lab. He used them to store vials of the most precious and rare potions. "I offer you a choice."  
  
Laurel opened the box carefully. It contained nothing but a tiny vial filled with an amber fluid.  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"Amnesia."  
  
She frowned and tried to remember the properties of that particular potion.  
  
Snape took another step backwards, away from her door, as if he wanted to be out of reach when she finally understood.  
  
"It will purge your memory of everything that happened since you came to Hogwarts." Laurel's hand gripped the vial so hard it almost broke.  
  
"You think I'd want to forget you? Just like this?"  
  
"You'd be free of ... me, of the pain I caused you ..."  
  
She bit her lip in desperation and swallowed hard. Her hands shook like crazy when she trust the box back at him.  
  
"Go to hell, Potions master!"  
  
She slammed the door in his face.  
  
While she sank to the floor inside her room, hugging herself, crying helplessly, Snape had not moved. He stared at the door and knew, hearing Laurel's muffled sobs, he had set his last bridge on fire.  
  
"Hell?" he whispered hoarsely. "I am already there."  
  
* * * 


	17. Worse than Death

17. Worse than Death  
  
The flat Black had taken her to was nice enough, and though it was rather small it was pleasantly furnished. The high windows let in enough sun to cheer Laurel up a little, while Black dragged her trunk into the hall. He had refrained from levitating the heavy luggage on their way from the station to Fay Street, and looked tired and exhausted. At least the incognito spell had worked well enough to let people forget his face as soon as they had passed and nobody recognised him as the man who's prominent features had been in every tabloid and paper two years ago.  
  
"Dumbledore could have found a place where they had a levitator!" he complained and kicked the trunk.  
  
"You mean elevator."  
  
"Whatever. If you ever move out of here, let Snape carry your stuff, ok?  
  
Laurel stuck her tongue out at him. To herself she had to admit that he fit better into the Muggle world than she did right now. Sirius Black seemed to be born for jeans and black leather, all that was missing was a motorcycle. While she, still in robes and cloak with open hair, looked like a hippie.  
  
Sirius pointed at the window. "From there you can see a street corner and a small black door."  
  
Laurel looked down on the street. It was a pleasant neighbourhood, with a small square of green and identical whitewashed houses on all four sides. "I see it."  
  
"That's the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. Faye Street is a mixed neighbourhood, Muggles and Wizards. They leave us alone and we leave them alone. But if you need help or advise, you should go to the Leaky Cauldron and ask for Tom."  
  
"Tom," she nodded.  
  
"He can also show you how to get into Diagon Alley. You will need money from your account at Gringott's. And you can get all kinds of magical stuff there. You might consider to get a decent wand while you are at it. What you used at Hogwarts was still a substandard students wand. Mr Olivander will be thrilled to meet an adult witch without a proper wand."  
  
"I won't need a wand." Laurel sat down at the window sill. "I won't use any magic while I am here. Dumbledore told me to keep a low profile. After all I am not very good with spells and charms - and if anything goes wrong, the Ministry might notice. Anyway I don't need magic in this flat. There is electricity." She pointed at the light switch.  
  
He frowned. "I forgot, you grew up in the Muggle world. So you know how to make light and all that? You know how to use the tele ... that thingy?"  
  
"The telephone? Yeah. I'll be fine."  
  
"Good." Black rose. "There are some people I need to see, so I don't have too much time now. Just one more thing. Dumbledore gave me this," he patted his pockets and produced a small brass tube. "For your safety."  
  
"For my safety?" Laurel took the piece of metal and looked at it doubtfully. "What am I supposed to do with it? Poke it into an attacker's eye?"  
  
"It is a magical lock, silly!" Black rolled his eyes. "Although you should be out of danger, now the red-haired lunatic is in our custody ..." He chuckled. "Moony in love with a lunatic ... James would have liked that!"  
  
Laurel held the brass piece in front of his eyes. "Sirius, the lock. How does it work?"  
  
He got serious again. "This flat is supposed to be a safe place. But one never knows. With the lock on your door only certain people may enter. So if you want to meet with someone else, you must do so in a café or in the park." His grin got suggestive. "If this had been old Sev's idea, I'd say it was to prevent you from dragging other men into your bedroom."  
  
She grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him towards her. "Do not test my patience, Black. Whenever I think you are a nice guy you prove me wrong."  
  
His grin broadened. "Nice guys are boring. You should know best." He pulled a small tightly rolled slip of parchment out of the brass tube. "You may write five names on this. For those five people the door will open - and only for them. So choose wisely." A wave of his wand, and a quill and inkpot appeared on the coffee-table.  
  
Laurel scribbled five names. Black took the parchment without looking at it, rolled it up and pushed it back into the tube.  
  
"Should I tell you which names I wrote?"  
  
He shook his head. "Better not."  
  
Laurel watched him melting the brass into the door lock with his wand. If anybody had told her a month ago that one day Sirius Black would be one of five people in the world she trusted most, she would have laughed in their face. Somehow it had been easy to pick five names: Dumbledore, McGonagall, Remus Lupin obviously, Black - and Severus. And if the door ever opened for one of them she only wished it was Severus.  
  
* * *  
  
Since then four weeks had passed. The money at Gringott's would get her through a few more months, but then she would have to look for a job. She strongly suspected Dumbledore to have filled up her account, cause there was much more money than she could have possibly earned in the few months she had taught at Hogwarts.  
  
She had taken up research at the National Library, with fuzzy plans to write a novel somewhere in the future. Other than that she waited. As Dumbledore had foretold, she felt whenever Severus got summoned by the Dark force. Then she sat shivering in her bed, hugging herself, until the fear subsided and she knew the man she loved had survived once more. Minerva McGonagall sent her an owl every Sunday, reporting all the gossip and a few facts, mostly about the students, and once in a while a sentence about Severus. And last week a large barn owl had announced Neville's visit. In the letter he had suggested the Leaky Cauldron as a meeting point.  
  
Laurel tried hard to adapt to a Muggle life again, but it was more difficult than she had assumed. As much as she had hated the robes they wore at Hogwarts, as much she had got used to the billowing folds of soft fabric against her skin. Now, wearing jeans and a T-shirt, she felt almost naked as she stood at the door of the Leaky Cauldron, waiting for Neville Longbottom. When he came around the corner, chubby face and all, she felt her heart go out to him. Not a child anymore and not a grown wizard yet, he reminded her so much of her youngest brother.  
  
Neville smiled at her. "Hi, Miss Hunter, you look nice in Muggle clothes." He blushed.  
  
Laurel shook her head. "I never knew they were so uncomfortable. How are you, Neville? How is everybody in Hogwarts?"  
  
Neville drew a deep breath. "Mione says hi, and so do Harry, Ron, Seamus, Emily from Hufflepuff, the first year Ravenclaws and the Fat Friar." He pondered for a moment whether he should mention what the Bloody Baron had told him to tell Laurel, but decided against it. "Professor Lupin wants you to know he is not running - whatever that means." He shrugged. "Can we go in? I hate it when they stare at me." A few Muggle kids had passed them, giggling about the boy in robes.  
  
"Sure." Laurel pushed open the withered door. She had watched the entrance of the Leaky Cauldron from her drawing room window often enough to know that most Muggles didn't notice it at all. They stepped into the dim cosy pub.  
  
"Have you been here before?" Neville asked.  
  
"You bet," said Laurel. She had visited Gringott's of course, and then got lost in the maze of shops and booths. They had a great selection of books at Flourish & Blott's, and one or two coffee shops stocked her favourite Honeyduke's chocolate truffles. The truffles had been her excuse to stroll through Diagon Alley every Friday afternoon since, but what really drew her there was the familiar atmosphere of casual magic she had got so used to at Hogwarts.  
  
"Would you mind if I visited my parents before we have something to eat?"  
  
Laurel looked at Neville and noticed the tension behind his friendly face. "That's what you came here for, isn't it? Would you like me to go with you? Is it far?"  
  
Neville shook his head. "St. Mungo's is just around the corner from Gringott's bank. The doctors there suggest to eat a lot of chocolate after the visits, so I usually go to Florescue's afterwards. Although I am never really hungry when I ..." His voice faltered and he looked away quickly.  
  
Laurel followed him to an inconspicuous building in an alleyway she had never noticed before.  
  
"It only pops up on Saturdays, "Neville explained. "But of course the emergency room is always there."  
  
They entered a serene hall filled with sunlight and fresh flowers. Large glass windows opened the view to a pleasant court with a small fountain. Laurel saw patients walk between the flowering rosebushes and didn't waste a thought to the fact that it was barely February. This was Diagon Alley after all, where they sold Dragon scales as naturally as they sold potatoes at Tesco's.  
  
She started towards the courtyard, when Neville held her back. "My parents are not in the garden. They are ... in the closed ward."  
  
Laurel bit her lip and let him lead the way.  
  
Nurses in white robes and longbearded doctors greeted Neville like an old friend. Neville turned to Laurel. "I have come here every first Saturday as long as I can remember," he remarked.  
  
A sudden commotion in the Hall had him grab her hand and draw her out of the way of running doctors. Two magic-medics levitated a stretcher through the hall. "Accident at Darwin's!" one of them reported. Laurel had been to Darwin's, a shop for magical creatures, only last week and recognised Mr. Darwin, clutching his bloody hand. Obviously some of his stock had not agreed with the notion of being exhibited in a shop window.  
  
Neville led her through a door that was unlocked for them by a nurse who patted Neville's head motherly, which made him blush violently. When the door was locked again behind them, Laurel took a good look around. The hallway was whitewashed, the floor as white as the ceiling.  
  
Neville pointed at a door at the end of the corridor. "That's their room." His gaze wavered. "You need not come with me if you don't want to."  
  
Laurel swallowed hard. To be honest she'd rather had left right now, but if a teenager could stand it, so could she. "I'll go with you. I promised, didn't I?"  
  
The Longbottoms' room was completely white as the hall had been. There were two beds, two chairs and a small table, but no window. A wizard sat at the table, hands folded, eyes riveted to the wall. He looked Snape's age, fair coloured like Neville, but not chubby at all. The pale face reminded Laurel of the pictures she had seen when Black had escaped from Azkaban. A mere skull, with paperthin skin stretched over it. But where Black's eyes had burned with scary intensity, Frank Longbottom's blue eyes were empty.  
  
While Laurel hovered at the doorstep, uncertain what to do, Neville went to the bed, where a woman lay, huddled in a white blanket. The boy pushed fine strands of blond hair out of the woman's face and kissed her forehead. "You look very nice today, Mum."  
  
He pointed at the second chair. "Take a seat, Miss Hunter. I'll sit on the bed." And to the man at the table. "Hi Dad."  
  
Though years passed until she saw Neville's parents again - and under much more pleasant circumstances - Laurel would never forget the hour she spent with the Longbottoms in that room in the ward. They were nothing but living corpses, she thought. Bodies who breathed, who's hearts beat, but who's minds had left a long time ago or at least had hidden somewhere so deep inside nobody could reach them. And still Neville talked to them, told them about school and about Furball as if they'd listen and answer any moment. But then he had never known them in a better state than this. Not once they showed any sign of recognition. Frank didn't bat an eyelid when Neville kissed him on the cheek to say goodbye, but when he bowed over Alice, Laurel thought for a moment she'd seen the women's face flicker with emotion. But that was probably just wishful thinking, as a doctor told her who had waited for them outside the ward. He thrust a large chunk of chocolate into their hands and studied  
Laurel's face carefully.  
  
"This is your first time, isn't it? Are you a relative?"  
  
"No, I am ... I was Neville's teacher at Hogwarts. I mean, not his teacher, but I taught at Hogwarts."  
  
"She is a friend, Dr. Jung," Neville explained.  
  
"Well, you should take your friend to a nice place now where you both can eat something sweet," said the doctor. "Neville, will you do me a favour and ask Nurse Simmons to see me?"  
  
When Neville padded down the corridor, he pointed at the locked door, unsmiling. "When I was a medical student in Vienna, I never understood why my Professors called those who died under Voldemort's reign of terror `the lucky ones'. Now I know that those who survived have to suffer a fate much worse than death."  
  
"They are ... empty."  
  
He bowed his head. "And yet they are alive. Their health is not affected. They may reach a great age and never again recognise anybody they used to love. It is the scariest thing I can imagine. And still Neville comes here every first Saturday."  
  
Another light against the Darkness, thought Laurel, almost choked by uncried tears.  
  
When Neville returned with a kind looking nurse in his wake, he made Laurel eat the chocolate that had melted in her hand and led her out of the building. Standing in the street, she recoiled from the sudden onslaught of colour and sound.  
  
Neville smiled at her. "Thank you for coming."  
  
"Are you ok, Neville?" Laurel asked shakily. "Because I am not ..."  
  
"You must eat something sweet. My Granny awaits me at Florescue's to make sure I don't skip the ice cream the doctors prescribed. She really wants to meet you. But I must warn you. She is kind of scary if you don't know her."  
  
Laurel smiled. "I'd like to meet your Grandmother very much. From what you told me she's quite a remarkable witch."  
  
"She is," Neville nodded. "It is only that she has a way to look at people that can be pretty unnerving." He shrugged. "But I reckon you are courageous enough."  
  
"What makes you think so?"  
  
"Well, loving Professor Snape and all ..."  
  
Laurel laughed. "I assume Severus would have to agree with you. And that would kill him!" But when she followed him into Florescue's ice cream parlour, she thought that Neville was certainly the most courageous of them all, visiting those living dead every month.  
  
* * *  
  
When Snape Apparated into the Headmaster's study, he was covered in dirt and blood. The blood was his own, it came from his nose and mouth, and the dirt came from the muddy ground of the clearing north of Edinburgh where Voldemort had gathered his followers this time. The Dark Lord had been in a vile mood, and had tortured all of them, even Malfoy, with a quick flick of his hand. The screaming of thirty grown men put under the Cruciatus Curse still sounded in Snape's ears.  
  
He held on to the edge of the desk and closed his eyes for a moment to steady himself. The abrupt change between Voldemort's terrorising presence and Dumbledore's serene room tended to make him dizzy.  
  
"Have a drink," a voice said and a glass clinked against the desk.  
  
Snape froze. "What are you doing here, Black? Where is Dumbledore?"  
  
The other wizard shrugged. "Had an urgent appointment with some old chap named Leander." He poured a generous shot of Acqua Vitae into the glass. "So he asked me to wait up for you."  
  
"I don't need anybody to wait up for me," Severus replied through gritted teeth. "Especially not you."  
  
Black leaned back into the leather armchair. Balancing his glass on one knee, he pointed at the other chair. "You look like you are going to faint, Snape."  
  
A wave of nausea hit Snape and he felt too sick to answer. With buckling knees he sat down and stared at the swirling pattern of the thick carpet. At least Black showed some mercy and kept his mouth shut, he thought while he waited for the blood to return to his head.  
  
When he felt he could lift his head without throwing up on Dumbledore's carpet, he took a large sip of the clear liquid. The strong alcohol burned down his throat.  
  
Black studied him from his armchair.  
  
"I never liked you, Snape."  
  
"Is that so? Now, that really hurts me, Black," Snape replied acidly.  
  
"But I never thought you were a fool."  
  
The Potions master's mouth twitched and he gave Black a bitter grin.  
  
"Am I?"  
  
"You must be. After all both Laurel and Remus insist that you are not a soulless bastard. So I reckon you're only too thick to take what Laurel was willing to give."  
  
Snape's eyes burned and his face paled even more.  
  
"You have no idea what you are talking about, Black."  
  
"Maybe. I spent almost half of my life in Azkaban. It has been a while since I loved anybody. But I know how precious and rare it is. And I am not so arrogant that I'd push love away when it finds me. But Severus Snape, so very gifted and wealthy and well-connected," he rose and planted himself before Snape, "Severus Snape thinks he can take his pick."  
  
The Potions master gripped the armrests of his chair so hard his knuckles turned white. Red patches coloured his white face and were the only indication of the raging fury that built up with every word Black said.  
  
"But I forgot, you have always been a snob. Nothing and nobody would ever be good enough for Mr Snape, right? Nobody was good enough to be your friend at school - safe Malfoy and those other pure-breds. And there was nothing your daddy wouldn't buy you. He probably bought you every girl you wanted, and now you don't know what to do with a love you get for free."  
  
A violent push shoved him all through the room, slamming into the wall right under the portrait of a former Headmaster, who roused from his sleep. Snape stood, his wand drawn, lips curled back, and watched his adversary slide to the floor in a heap. He drew his breath in great ragged gasps.  
  
"Severus."  
  
Dumbledore's placid voice found a way through the red haze of rage in Snape's mind. Lowering his wand, he turned away from Black and faced the Headmaster, who stood in the door. Most of the pictures were wide awake by now and nudged each other to not miss a detail of the interesting ongoing.  
  
"Severus, calm down."  
  
The Headmaster approached cautiously and slowly took the wand away from the wizard's hand. "Take a seat," he said soothingly.  
  
Snape stared at Black, who sat against the wall, cradling his head in his hands. Dumbledore bowed down and carefully checked the cut on Black's forehead. "That looks nasty, Sirius. You better go and see Poppy." Black tried to nod, but ceased wincing when he moved his head.  
  
The old wizard turned to Snape. "And you, Severus ..."  
  
"It was not his fault, Headmaster. I ... provoked him," croaked Black. "I needed to know if he still is the arrogant git I knew. Or if Laurel is right and he has changed."  
  
Dumbledore smiled faintly and took a seat behind his desk. "I see. What is your conclusion then?"  
  
Black stood up, very carefully testing his balance. "I hate to admit it but I might have been wrong. Not that I understand why he acts the way he does." He limped to the door. "Nice move by the way, Snape. But next time slam me into something softer, won't you?"  
  
When he had left the study, Dumbledore looked at Snape. The Potions master had closed his eyes and rested his head against the backrest of the chair. Dumbledore studied the younger wizards weary face, the crusted blood in the corner of his mouth, the lanky hair, the muddy robes.  
  
"I trust Black didn't have the chance to bloody your mouth, did he?" he asked.  
  
Snape jumped. He had almost fallen asleep from exhaustion. Since Laurel had left, the nightmares had returned with full force and he had not slept more than a few hours a night.  
  
"Black? No. The Dark Lord felt he had to make an example of us."  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Severus, you know I do not ask you to risk your life any more than you did already. If Voldemort ever suspects you ..."  
  
"He doesn't," Snape replied tiredly. "He is well pleased I removed ... a certain witch ... from my life." He did not tell Dumbledore that Lucius Malfoy had invited him to one of his parties at Malfoy Manor to `distract him'. Snape knew the kind of distraction those events held in store only too well. He had been a willing participant more times than he could count. Only now the mere thought sickened him.  
  
"Severus, do you think it wise to make it even harder for yourself than it needs to be?" The Headmaster had conjured tea and a small stack of cauldron cakes and tipped one of the sweet cakes into the tea.  
  
Snape did not answer. His motions slow like those of a much older man, he took his wand from the small table and lit a fire in the fireplace. Stretching his hands towards the flames, he shuddered. "I can't get warm. That damned dungeon is like an ice-cellar."  
  
Dumbledore waited patiently while the Potions master moved his chair closer to the fireplace.  
  
"The dungeons are still the same," he said then. "What did Black say to make you so angry?"  
  
"His mere presence at Hogwarts is enough."  
  
"But he has been here several weeks now and tonight was the first time you felt you had to throw him against the wall."  
  
Snape avoided the older wizards gaze. "It is not important."  
  
"It is, obviously. The day will come when you have to rely on each other. But if I was wrong in my judgement and both of you can't quit hurting each other ..."  
  
"It was my fault," Snape said very fast. "He kept talking about my father ..."  
  
"Does he know, Severus?"  
  
"No!" He jerked his head and stared at the Headmaster. "He needn't know. Nobody needs ..."  
  
"Laurel must know." Dumbledore's voice was still calm but insistent. "One day you'll have to tell her."  
  
"I don't. She is gone. She must stay away from ... all this," he gingerly touched his mauled face. "I want to know her safe and in peace."  
  
"She'll never be in peace away from you, Severus."  
  
"She must forget me!" He laid his head back and closed his eyes again. "She deserves better than me."  
  
"Better than you?" Dumbledore drew his wand and let a woollen blanket appear which slowly descended onto the man in the armchair.  
  
"You know what I am, Albus. You've been there."  
  
The Headmaster sighed and made the blanked wrap around Snape's body. "I'll never forgive myself for not understanding earlier."  
  
"It is not your fault," Snape said.  
  
"So this is the reason you forced her to leave? You feel you do not deserve her?"  
  
"That, and the fact that I might die in this coming war ... all of us might die. But Laurel must live."  
  
A gentle smile lit up Dumbledore's worried face.  
  
"Because you love her."  
  
"Because I love her," Snape repeated very softly as if he tasted the words for the first time.  
  
"My dear boy, we are so happy for you!" The Headmaster relaxed visibly. The former Headmasters all applauded.  
  
Snape opened his eyes. "We? Again? Am I everybody's favourite piece of gossip now?"  
  
"Well, I think the students have their own theories about you. But Minerva and Theodore and my honourable colleagues," he pointed at the portraits, "all agree that you very much needed to fall in love. I have always told you love is the best thing that could happen to you."  
  
The younger wizard rose from his chair, gave Dumbledore a long gaze and went to the door. Before he left he turned, his face drawn with pain and need. "You should have also told me how much it hurts."  
  
* * *  
  
Another week went by. Laurel's nights were filled with vivid dreams about Hogwarts and by day she found herself staring at the wand in it's carved chest. She would not use it, she told herself daily but everyday her resistance crumbled more. Maybe she had been wrong to leave. Maybe she could be with Severus and keep her love to herself. But then she remembered Dumbledore's words. She still believed that this, painful and hard, was the right way. She wanted Severus so much - but at the same time she knew she would wither if she had to deny that love. No more cowardice. No more lies. And so she woke up crying every morning.  
  
She had been nervous and unable to concentrate on her work all day. When one of the clerks at the library had handed her the wrong books again, she had decided to call it a day, go home and settle at her desk with a nice cup of tea. But not even quiet music could soothe her nerves. The cold rain pelting down at the tin roof over her flat made her flinch. She lighted a candle and went to the window to make sure it was secured and could not be pushed open by the storm. That was when she heard the door open.  
  
"Let it be Severus," Laurel prayed without turning her head. "Oh please, let it be Severus." Then she saw the reflection in the window and sighed.  
  
"Headmaster Dumbledore."  
  
The old wizard, dressed in robes of vivid blue and yellow, smiled at her.  
  
"I am afraid you expected somebody else, but you'll have to make do with me for the moment."  
  
She turned and stretched out both arms. He entered the room and closed the door carefully. Just to see his gentle face made her feel much better.  
  
"How are you, dear girl?"  
  
Impulsively she gave him a warm hug. "Don't worry about me. I trust Severus is well?"  
  
"There is something important we have to talk about, Laurel." Dumbledore's voice sounded tired. "Let's sit down."  
  
Laurel sat on the edge of a chair, suddenly worried.  
  
"What has happened?"  
  
He smirked. "The right question is - what will happen?"  
  
Laurel frowned slightly. There was something wrong with him, something she could not name yet.  
  
Dumbledore drew his wand and glared at her through half-moon shaped glasses. His right eye twitched.  
  
"Obstringo," he said, almost casually, and silvery ropes shot out of the tip of his wand and tied Laurel to the chair. 


	18. The Fourth Forbidden Curse

18. The Fourth Forbidden Curse  
  
Snape stood in the Hall of Malfoy Manor with it's gilded ceiling and austere looking portraits of ancestors. Each and everyone a true Slytherin, he thought. Malfoy took so much pride in his family tree, while Snape - who could trace his own back to the old days of Merlin and Morgaine Le Faye - couldn't be bothered. He had struggled for years to convince himself that he had not inherited any Snape family traits. "Blood is nothing" Dumbledore had told him twenty years ago in the Hospital wing of Hogwarts. "You decide who you are." And then, when everything had gone awfully wrong, the old wizard had reminded him that the decision was still up to him ...  
  
He had followed Malfoy's invitation tonight because he could not find an excuse believable enough. Narcissa had greeted him at the door with that strange smile of hers, half sad and half condescending. Dear Draco had reported to his father how miserable Snape was of lately, and she was glad to see him join Lucius' party. Narcissa never took part in any of her husband's social affairs, at least not where it concerned the Dark Lord or his fellow Death Eaters. Sometimes Snape wondered how much she was aware of what was going on in the dungeon of Malfoy Manor, and whether she had ever feared for Draco when he spent the summer at home.  
  
Her husband had arranged for 'distraction' which Snape had politely declined. Lucius had accepted with a shrug, but the 'distraction' had not been so civilised and cursed him maliciously when he turned his back. Only his alertness and quick reaction had saved him - but hadn't it always been like this in Malfoy's house?  
  
On the other hand - at Lucius's parties one would never find women who had been forced to attend. Few of Voldemort's followers were dedicated to their leader's obsession with pure blood. Only a handful of families could boast a truly pure bloodline after all. Sometimes, when Snape studied Malfoy's family tree, he could not refrain from making a malicious remark to Lucius about the dangers of inbreeding. Lucius never took this gladly, he really believed in this nonsense. But power - ah, power was something even the thickest Death Eater understood. The power to make others obey. The power to force others to endure things that ashamed them, terrified them, even killed them. This power, given as freely as the punishment, bound the Death Eaters tighter to Voldemort with every time they tasted it.  
  
In Malfoy Manor things were different. Everyone attended at free will. Of course there was pain - wasn't the universe built on pain? But if anyone here liked to inflict pain on others, it was rather the women than the men. Lucius was one of the few Death Eaters who weren't secretly annoyed that Voldemort had let women join his army. Not that Malfoy gave a damn about Feminism or equal rights, thought Snape - just look how he treated Narcissa, like a piece of art or an extremely well bred animal. But the women, especially the Death Eaters, supplied what Malfoy considered great entertainment.  
  
At Malfoy's parties Snape had learned to never eat anything he was offered, to never drink from a bottle that was not corked and sealed until he opened it himself. He had learned to keep his back to the wall and seek the satisfaction his body craved without ever loosing control. He had seen men stabbed and poisoned, had seen men loose their mind or the use of their limbs. Of course, in terms of cruelty this was nothing compared with what went on at say, Goyle's or Flint's feasts. Snape had never forced a women - only Laurel, it flashed through his mind - he had never taken part in rape or abuse. Often the image he had built so painstakingly, the persona of the icy detached cynical, proved wisely chosen. Those who had only known him as Voldemort's hunter, were afraid of him. The younger ones stared at him from the relative safety of their hoods when they thought he didn't notice it. Like the one Death Eater Voldemort had summoned into their circle only a week ago. Until now  
nobody had been told the wizard's name. Voldemort liked it like this, kept names secret and their bearers to himself, until they were branded with the Dark mark and their hood pushed back to reveal their face to the other Death Eaters.  
  
Every time a new member appeared in the circle, Snape watched their moves, their posture, always afraid to look into the eyes of one of his students when the hood fell. This had happened twice during the last year. As soon as Marcus Flint had graduated, he had joined. Snape had never seen Boris Flint so proud, and had had to pretend the same attitude to see the former Slytherin captain branded with the grinning skull.  
  
Tiredly Snape rubbed his aching temples.  
  
A house-elf tiptoed closer. Lucius didn't like his elves to make unnecessary noise and punished them mercilessly whenever he felt disturbed by them. The elf looked up at the tall Potions master.  
  
"Will Lory bring the cloak now, Sir?"  
  
He nodded. "Yes, thank you."  
  
"What do you need your coat for, Sev? Iris here is more than willing to warm you, aren't you Iris?"  
  
Iris laughed and showed large teeth. She was Millicent Bullstrode's mother and Snape found he could never look at Millicent without the memory of her mother almost strangling a man to death a few years ago. Oh, the woman enjoyed pain, liked to give it but even more to receive it. Sometimes he wondered how the children of his fellow Death Eaters had survived until their admittance to Hogwarts. But then, so had he. The human body survived a lot, and the human mind could always pretend - not to know, not to see, not to mind.  
  
"Thank you, Lucius, Iris." He hugged the cloak around his shoulders. "I have to leave now. I am expected at Hogwarts and don't want to rise any suspicion."  
  
"Well, then, tell Draco to work harder, will you!" Lucius said it with a smile that softened his face for a brief moment. Snape knew he was fiercely ambitious where Draco was concerned and expected only the highest marks and achievements of the boy. Another one in a long line of Malfoys ... But on the other hand, if there was one human being Lucius Malfoy loved from the bottom of his black heart, it was his son.  
  
Still, sometimes Snape wondered if not Harry Potter, with his parents dead, had been treated by the Fates with more mercy than many others.  
  
"I'd rather not Apparate too many times into Hogwarts when it is not imperative. Mind if I borrow one of your brooms, Lucius?" he asked while two elves held open the door.  
  
Malfoy shrugged and caressed Iris's breast. "Not at all. Help yourself.  
  
* * *  
  
"Headmaster?" Laurel croaked , taken by surprise. She tried to move her hands, but could not. The thin ropes held her firmly in place.  
  
The old wizard laughed again. "Those locks are worth nothing," he said when he finally calmed down. "When I overheard Dumbledore talking to Professor White about the names you'd have to write down, I knew his would be on that list."  
  
Laurel stared at him, and when his eye twitched, suspicion dawned. If he had not recognised the Incognito charm that turned Sirius into inconspicuous Professor White, he could not be any staff of Hogwarts since Dumbledore had revealed the disguise at that meeting when Remus and Sirius had arrived.  
  
"Ben?"  
  
"Well done, Laurel," he gave her a condescending smile and drew a chair close to hers. "How did you know?"  
  
"Your eye."  
  
"Ah, yes. A tick I can't get rid of." He rubbed his eyes and still looked like Albus Dumbledore.  
  
"I don't understand." Laurel shook her head. The scene reminded her so much of the moment she had awoken in the vanishing chamber, it was like a deja vu. "Why did you .."  
  
"The ropes?" He tipped the wand to her wrists and the bounds dissolved into nothing. But when Laurel tried to rise he pointed the wand right at her and warned softly: "Do not move. I came here because of your dear friend Professor Snape, but I will not hesitate to injure you or kill you in the process if I must. Although I'd rather have Snape do that."  
  
Laurel's eyes widened. She had heard him, but could not grasp the meaning of his words.  
  
"You want Severus to injure me? Why should he do that?"  
  
"Oh, don't you worry, my dear." The Headmaster's gentle face was lit by an eerie smile. "We have our means."  
  
"Who is we?"  
  
When he opened his mouth, a painful gasp escaped instead of an answer. His body convulsed in the chair, trembled and bulged, stretched and changed before Laurel's eyes. The beard vanished and so did the wrinkly skin. Slowly and painfully Ben's true self appeared.  
  
"Polyjuice," he shrugged when he got his breath back. "It should be enough to drink it every hour to keep up the effect. But I got it wrong somehow."  
  
"Who is we, Ben?" Laurel's voice quavered. It was obvious that Ben, silent, friendly Ben, had lost his mind - or worse, his soul.  
  
"Lord Voldemort and I, of course." Again the laughter. "I am about to receive the Dark mark any time now. Snape's destruction will be my ... present to him."  
  
"Destruction? Ben, what have I ever done to you? What has Severus ever done to you?"  
  
"You must not make the mistake to think of yourself as anything important, Laurel," he snapped and narrowed his eyes. "You are nothing, pure muggle, and this talent of your doesn't make you a witch, it makes you a freak."  
  
He stood up and took a deep gulp from a flask he had kept in his sleeve. "Aargh, this stuff is so revolting!"  
  
The whole process started over, only reversed this time. Ben's young body changed into Dumbledore's old one. Laurel could not take her eyes off the scary sight.  
  
'Dumbledore' rubbed his neck. "Being old is not as easy as one thinks," he complained. "My joints ache like hell."  
  
"Ben, let me go!" Laurel pleaded, but with no real hope.  
  
"Stupid girl, I told you before, I needed you here. How can I let you go?"  
  
"But why?"  
  
He stepped closer until his face was only inches from hers. "What do you think happens to those who betray the Dark Lord?"  
  
"Severus did not betray Volde..."  
  
He hit her across the face so hard she bit her tongue.  
  
"Don't you dare to speak his name, you ... Muggle bitch!" he raved. "And don't you dare to lie to me. Have you forgotten I can read your mind? Oh, the wizards all took great care to block me, but once in a while, when they are angry or upset I get a glimpse right into their head. I know that Snape has been Dumbledore's spy for years!"  
  
Laurel spit blood on the carpet and kept her eyes shut in case a second blow followed. But Ben seemed to calm down.  
  
"Death is no punishment for those who held my Lord's precious trust and proved not worthy. Lord Voldemort doesn't care about you, so you need not worry. You'll suffer a while, but all suffering ends with death. But Snape ... he will suffer for a long long time. And eventually he will kill himself."  
  
He forced her to look at him by squeezing her mouth. "How do you think I'll accomplish that with a man who after the Cruciatus Curse stands up and brushes it off like dust? How will I make him suffer? Ask me, Laurel!"  
  
She grit her teeth.  
  
He squeezed harder, until the pain was too much.  
  
"How?"  
  
"You'll see. Pity you are too stupid to ever appreciate how extraordinary the curse is I'll cast. The fourth Forbidden Curse ... For more than six hundred years it has been forgotten. But my Lord Voldemort has uncovered it, and Snape will be to first to be punished with it."  
  
He touched her forehead with his wand and muttered a rapid succession of words in an ancient language. Laurel tensed, prepared for pain or at least a change, but nothing happened. She felt as always, save for the fact that her tongue and jaw ached from Ben's handling. But there was this overwhelming urge to open her mouth ...  
  
Ben paled. His eyes bulged and he covered his ears with both hands. Laurel could not hear anything, so she supposed the curse had deafened her. How this was supposed to hurt Severus, who was far away in Hogwarts at this very moment, she did not understand.  
  
Ben's lips moved in what appeared to be a Bind-and-Gag-Spell. Although there were no visible ropes, Laurel's wrists were bound tight to the armrests once more, and something sticky covered her mouth and made it hard to breath.  
  
As soon as her lips were kept shut, Ben let his hands sink and stared at her maliciously. "For this you would die by my own hand if Snape wouldn't finish you off anyway."  
  
He stepped back and went to a corner of the room. There in the shadows he drew a circle on the floor. Straining against the invisible ties, Laurel watched him step into the circle and disappear and watched him step out again.  
  
"Now all is set." He stroked the long beard. "Only one player is missing."  
  
*  
  
The Mansion towered over the small village like a bad omen. Snape pushed the broom behind a low stonewall where it wouldn't be found by anybody who passed - although he knew very well that the villagers would rather take great detours than cross the grounds of Snape House. He needn't cast Alohomora, after all he was a Snape, and even though he'd not been back for more than twenty years, the door still knew him and opened with croaking hinges.  
  
As soon as Snape stepped over the threshold, he started to shiver violently. Had he thought the dungeons at Hogwarts cold? The Hall was silent and icy like a tomb. No-one lived here anymore since his father had died, but somebody had covered the furniture with grey blankets. Snape could have lit the candles in the chandelier or used his wand, but he found his way without light. His steps echoed in the hall.  
  
Julian Snape had never considered it necessary to hide his amusements in the basement or behind closed doors. There had been nobody who'd witness what happened in the house but the elves and those who participated. After Camilla, his wife, had left and died together with her young lover in a broom accident over Paris, he had not remarried. Severus had been only two years old then and could not remember his mother at all. He hadn't seen much of Julian either until he was old enough to learn his first spell. Only then his father had taken notice of him, much to the boy's horror.  
  
Snape passed a once lovely drawing room and eventually stood in the great ballroom. Mirrors took up three sides of the room, while windows with heavy drapes took the other. The room was empty, the parquet covered with an inch of dust. Obviously Julian had not been up to amusement in his later years. He forced himself to proceed to the middle of the room. His breath came in flat gasps. Cold sweat trickled down his back. He had died here. Dumbledore had levitated him out on a stretcher, his body still breathing. But that had changed nothing about the fact that he had died. In this room he had opened his soul to the Darkness and ever since then it had had a firm grip to his very core.  
  
He hunched on his heels and touched the wall beneath the gilded frame of a mirror. The stains were still visible if now a dull brown. They had been a bright red, his blood all over the marble tiles and the honey coloured parquet. So much blood...  
  
Snape shook his head and stood up. His image reflected hundredfold by the mirrors, he willed his hands to relax, his fists to unclench. The room seemed crowded by tall men in black cloaks, and yet he was alone. He had been alone before this day, and he had been alone afterwards. He had been alone as a Death Eater and as a spy - until Dumbledore had come up with his foolish, laughable plan. Merlin, he had tried to talk reason into the old wizard, hadn't he? But somehow Dumbledore had managed to sneak Laurel not only into his bed but also into - no, not his heart - his life. She had not been impressed by the cynic, the misanthrope. Worse - she claimed to love him in spite. And she had seen through him. She had been right, he was drowning in the Darkness, he was becoming what he had been once - Voldemort's hound and hunter - and worse than that.  
  
He had never trusted anyone in his life, only Albus Dumbledore. So far the old wizard had always been right, and maybe he had been right about the tie as well. The passion between them had been strong enough to keep the nightmares at bay. Snape bowed his head in silent surrender. With Laurel by his side he'd fight the Darkness. More than that. He'd fight Julian, once and for all. He was going to claim something he never had thought he'd deserve: To be loved by someone. To be loved beyond reason.  
  
He still could not easily accept the fact that he would not be able to give her anything. But then again, Laurel and he had had a deal once - passion for honesty. Maybe he could trade something else now - protection, loyalty, dedication for love. Although he was all empty, Laurel was willing to give. Or had been willing, he thought with sudden anxiety. Had been willing until he had forced her to leave ...  
  
Before the door closed after him, he turned one last time and faced the large portrait in the hall. He looked into the cold grey eyes and felt nothing but weariness. But under the weariness there was a tiny spark that glowed, that kept him warm. He'd go to Laurel and put his fate into her hands, just as he had once with Dumbledore. He was not sure how she'd react but he had hope.  
  
"Maybe you did not win after all, Julian. I hope you rot in hell."  
  
The door closed without a sound.  
  
*  
  
They waited. Twice Laurel watched horrified how Dumbledore's beard shrunk back into his chin, how his skin unwrinkled and his body stretched a few inches. Twice Ben had to drink from his flacon of Polyjuice and changed back into Dumbledore. The change seemed to be a rather unpleasant experience. After the second change Ben grew impatient. He looked at the clock on the wall.  
  
"I wonder what takes your lover that long. I heard him say he'd leave the party before I Apparated."  
  
He moved back to his hiding place in the back of the room.  
  
Laurel tried to breathe slowly through her nose. The magical tape over her mouth made her gag. She could hardly move. Her mind raced - she had to warn Severus somehow, but could not see any way. For the first time in weeks she prayed he would not come.  
  
When the door opened, a tear of desperation rolled down her cheek.  
  
*  
  
Hundreds of miles away Serene screamed. She collapsed on the floor of the platform on top of the Astronomy Tower where she had met with Remus Lupin to gaze at the stars. Lupin's muscles were still sore from the change he had undergone two days ago, and he still felt drowsy from the Wolfsbane potion. So they had sat against the low stone banister rather than climb the ladder to the telescope.  
  
Clutching her head with both hands, Serene's breath faltered. The scream subsided and left her sobbing. Remus kneeled by her side, frantic with fear. He didn't know what to do. One moment she had been perfectly fine, even leaning lightly against his shoulder as she explained the stars to him, the next she was all pain and terror.  
  
"Serene," he whispered and touched her cheek. "What's wrong?"  
  
She looked up at him, her lovely eyes widened in shock. "It is happening. You promised it would not be. But it is happening right now."  
  
Remus drew her into his arms, holding her tightly. "What is happening, love?"  
  
He had never used the term of endearment in her presence, but since he called her his love to himself, the word slipped out easily now that he was afraid for her.  
  
"He'll kill him. Oh dear Goddess, he'll kill him."  
  
She started to cry helplessly when Remus lifted her and carried her off the tower.  
  
*  
  
Snape stood in the doorway, waiting for Laurel to ask him in. He had played this moment in his mind all the way to London. This was the true reason he had not Apparated but decided to go by broom. He had needed time to think the situation over, to analyse it thoroughly. He did not fancy experiments where his emotions were concerned. As many risks he might take in the lab, where it was thrilling to venture the result of a particular concoction, as scary it was now. For he knew he'd be able to clean up a devastated Potions lab eventually. But if he screwed up now, he might not get a second chance. And this was something he had never done before, a situation where neither experience nor reason could guide him. He decided to take it as a good sign that the safety lock had opened to him.  
  
"Laurel? May I come in?"  
  
When she didn't react, he closed the door behind him, but stayed where he was, ready to leave again. The room was only lit by one of the electrical muggle features in a corner by the sofa. He could see Laurel sitting in the chair and although he knew she had any right to be angry with him, he had expected a warmer welcome. He clenched his fists to fight the sudden urge to turn and run. If anything, he was not a coward. A fool maybe and worse, but not a coward.  
  
"Laurel," he began and heard with relief that his voice did not betray his insecurity. His voice had always been one of his better features. He had held classes of little monsters in check with that voice.  
  
"I know I have no right to ask anything of you after I sent you away. Still, I ask for five minutes to explain."  
  
She did not answer, so he just proceeded.  
  
"No doubt, everybody volunteered to tell you how unsociable and downright repulsive I was. And they were right. Until you came to Hogwarts I never understood how anybody could wish to be with others when they could be alone." He closed his eyes for a moment to scare unwanted memories away. "I am old enough to have organised my life in a way that befits me. I teach Potions - because I enjoy its universal structure and reliability. I don't want to be touched - so I would never let anybody get close enough. I don't say it was a good life, but it was all I could bear. And then you came and ruined it all." He clenched his fists when he felt his voice waver.  
  
"You know I fought this tie between us. Not because I didn't fancy you as you suspected me, but because I was afraid of what would happen if I let you get too close. I did not want you close. I never wanted anybody that close. Now Dumbledore tells me I am in love with you and I can't even prove him wrong because I ... I just don't know how it feels ... how love feels. I know this must repulse you, but honestly, I have never loved anybody in my whole life. There is no handbook, no rules, and I can't even say I enjoy this feeling you evoked. It certainly scares the hell out of me. The very thought to be in anyone's dept chokes me. But you said your love was a gift, was free, and if you were just patient enough, maybe I could learn to ..."  
  
He waited. Then, stepping closer, he asked softly: "Did I ruin it all? Or do you just want to see me beg? Is that it? Do you want to bring me to my knees?"  
  
Only then he saw her eyes, wide open, the warm brown overshadowed with terror, her lips pressed together as if ... He stared at her hands. Her nails were blue, her wrists raw as if ...  
  
He froze. Searching the room for an intruder, he found no sign that they were not alone. Laurel's eyes tried to tell him something. Still scrutinising the shadows he drew his wand and cast "Finite Incantatem" at her. Her hands snapped away from the armrests. Her lips opened. She drew a deep breath. And then the world shattered as she laughed in his face.  
  
"How pathetic! Why in the world would anybody love you, Potions master?"  
  
*  
  
Dumbledore looked up in surprise and pushed his half-moon shaped glasses back when Remus stepped out of the fireplace unannounced. Then he saw the half-conscious woman in the wizard's arms and reacted faster than his age suggested.  
  
Throwing a pinch of Floo into the fire, he called Madam Pomfrey, and afterwards Sirius and both arrived within minutes in the circular study.  
  
Remus had bedded Serene on a low sofa and stroked her forehead, unsure what to do.  
  
Dumbledore touched her cheek. "Open your eyes, Serene and look at me." His voice was soft but imperious.  
  
Her head shot up. "You are here? But you can't be ..."  
  
Dumbledore gave way to Madam Pomfrey who provided a glass of a soothing potion and urged Serene to drink it. While the matron kept the patient busy, the headmaster took Sirius aside.  
  
"Please go and wake up Mr Potter, and ask him to once more lend us his formidable map."  
  
Black nodded and left, only to appear a few minutes later with the Marauder's map.  
  
Dumbledore spread the parchment on his desk and gestured Remus to help Serene to stand up.  
  
"As you can see, Serene - and to my own relief as well - I am here." He pointed at a tiny dot labelled 'Dumbledore'.  
  
Serene shook her head in disbelief. "But I saw it. It is happening right now." She scrutinised the map. "Professor Snape is not at Hogwarts."  
  
The Headmaster frowned. "He should be back by now. Is anybody else missing?"  
  
Poppy had just started counting the dots when Sirius tapped the parchment with his wand and asked: "Who is missing?"  
  
Letters appeared on the edge of the map. Snape. Hunter. Olsen. Flitwick. Hagrid. Harrington.  
  
"Miss Harrington was called home to see her new-born baby-brother," Poppy remarked.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Professor Flitwick is currently in France at a conference. Hagrid is in Romania supervising a delivery of pet dragons he has acquired for the school. Mr Olsen is visiting his brother in Manchester. Snape is .. well, I know where he is. Laurel is in London."  
  
"How do we know?" Sirius interrupted the older wizard. "How do we know where Snape or Laurel are at this very moment?"  
  
"We don't." He shrugged, now worried. "I know pretty much everything that happens in Hogwarts. But London ... it is out of my reach."  
  
"Anyway, we do not know where Serene's vision is set. But we know that you are here with us, Headmaster." Remus drew Serene to his breast and for one moment she relaxed against his shoulder. "So it is hardly possible that Snape is killing you right now, isn't it?"  
  
*  
  
As soon as her lips opened, Laurel felt the alien presence in the room. It was as if Darkness itself seeped out of her mouth and crawled towards the man in front of her. She could not hear anything she said, but obviously Snape could. She saw him pale as if she had slapped him across the face. Desperately she clamped her freed hands over her mouth. But the Darkness would not be stopped.  
  
Frozen with shock she watched the pain grow in Snape's eyes, and something worse than pain, a numb acceptance. Whatever it was she said, whatever the words meant she could not hear, they devastated the man she loved. She reached out for Snape's hand only to see him jerk back. How could she make him notice Ben?  
  
Although every move took great effort she stood up and moved to the corner where Ben was hiding. She had no wand, it was still in the wooden box on the mantle. But a long time ago Snape had told her that she did not need a wand if she only focussed her mind enough. She had once been able to start fire at will if she only built up an anger fierce enough. Tears streaked her face when she moved closer to the circle. Whatever it was Ben had done to her, it was destroying Severus right before her eyes. He stood, his shoulders hunched as if trying to block violent blows. Still the Darkness kept creeping around him. It filled the room like black fog. The temperature had dropped dramatically. Laurel shivered uncontrollably when she reached the magical circle Ben had drawn. She stretched out her hand and concentrated on her hatred for Ben.  
  
As soon as she touched the circle she felt an icy jolt of power. It was so forceful it pushed her back towards the window like a stroke. But her touch had been sufficient to break the energy flow Ben had drawn up to hide behind. He became visible - and Snape stared at him, his face empty and grey as parchment.  
  
Laurel winced. Of course he did not see Ben - he saw Dumbledore.  
  
Ben laughed and it was a cruel laughter. Triumphantly he glared at the Potions master who took the onslaught of words now without any sign of parry. "Did you really think you could betray the Dark Lord, Snape?"  
  
The Potions master breathed in shallow gasps. His empty eyes focussed on Ben, and Laurel saw how a shudder ran through his body. She knew she was still talking, but Snape was beyond hurt now. He drew his wand. Laurel moaned. Not this. Serene had seen this very moment, had seen Severus prepared to kill Dumbledore - or as Laurel now knew - a wizard who looked like Dumbledore. But in Serene's vision she had stood on the window sill. The window ... The high window with its view to the street below ... Four storeys below ... When she finally understood, time seemed to stretch like sticky toffee. She moved and climbed the window sill and watched Severus lift his wand in slow motion and saw Ben open his mouth and opened the window and flung open the leafs. The only thought that was still clear in her mind was that she had to stop the Darkness drowning Severus, and there was only one way to make herself stop talking. She spread her arms, ready to fall.  
  
*  
  
Snape felt the blood drain from his head when Dumbledore suddenly appeared in the corner of the room. Then everything went very fast. Automatically he drew his wand, saw Dumbledore react, saw Laurel climb the sill, understood what she was about to do. Serene's vision. The corridor in Hogwarts. He and Laurel had discussed the probability of it happening. Laurel's voice echoed in his mind, stronger and clearer than the cruel words she would not stop lashing at him now.  
  
"You won't kill Dumbledore. Voldemort will never gain that much of you."  
  
He saw her spread her arms, heard Dumbledore's triumphant laughter and leapt to hold her back - at the same moment shouting "Expelliarmus!" at his adversary.  
  
The shout stopped Dumbledore in midspell.  
  
"Avada ..."  
  
His voice cracked with shock when his wand flew from his hand towards Snape.  
  
*  
  
"I shall Apparate to London. There is no other way to confirm that Miss Hunter is save."  
  
"No!" wailed Serene and clutched the Headmaster's sleeve. "You must not! It may be a trap."  
  
"She is right. We should not take a risk." Sirius agreed with her. "I'll go."  
  
"Albus!" Madame Pomfrey's voice startled them. She pointed at the very edge of the map. Two tiny dots were appearing, blinking, vanishing and appearing again until they settled at the outskirts of the Forbidden Forrest.  
  
"Laurel and Severus," Dumbledore noted. He turned to Lupin and Black. "You better go and find them. And fast."  
  
*  
  
Laurel fell. Somebody held her, and the fall took far too long. Even the four storeys of her building could not take that long. When she finally hit the ground, it did not feel like cobblestone at all. It felt more like mossy ground, it smelled of wood and fern - and she knew she must be dying because surely she had just hit a London street and not the Forbidden Forrest.  
  
*  
  
Remus and Sirius beat their way through the brush. Remus' wand lit the map where they could see two dots at the very edge of the Forrest. The dots had not moved at first, but now they seemed to slowly approach the Quidditch field. Black looked around impatiently.  
  
"Hurry up, Moony, we got to find them before they are found by one of the things in the damned forrest! Can't you do anything? Smell them?"  
  
He studied the map again. They had to be close now.  
  
A crackling of twigs proved the map right. Snape stumbled towards them, his robe torn to shreds by the bush that had attacked him on the way through the Forrest.  
  
"I never thought I'd ever say that. But Merlin, am I glad to see you, Snape!" Sirius drawled.  
  
A few meters away from them, Snape broke down, fell to his knees and bedded Laurel carefully onto the grass. He tried to focus through the swirling blue shapes around him.  
  
"You ... must take her to Dumbledore." He touched his shoulder and stared incomprehensibly at his fingers that came away covered with blood. "Tell him ... tell him I did not ... kill him."  
  
He fainted right into Remus' arms.  
  
Lupin moved his glowing wand over the Potions master's body. He winced and looked up at Black. "Fuck, Sirius, just look at this!"  
  
A piece of wood stuck out from Snape's shoulder, thick as a thumb and viciously splintered right above the flesh.  
  
"I know this wand," said Remus. "Norwegian birch."  
  
Sirius nodded grimly. "Looks like Mr Olsen changed sides."  
  
* * * 


	19. Parseltongue

19. Parseltongue  
  
For the first time since he knew him, Dumbledore truly looked like an old man, thought Sirius when he led Mr. Olivander to the Headmaster's study. Dumbledore stood up and smiled at Olivander, but the smile did not reach his eyes. They were full of sorrow. Sirius hovered at the doorstep, unsure whether he was allowed to stay.  
  
"Join us, Sirius," Dumbledore beckoned him to the table where another wizard sat. From his white robes Sirius recognised him as one of the doctors of St. Mungo's.  
  
"Professor ... White. Dr Jung. Mr Olivander from Olivander's in London," the Headmaster introduced the wizards.  
  
"Dr Jung here has examined both Severus and Laurel. Laurel is still unconscious but other than a mild concussion and a few bruises from the fall she is unhurt. But Severus ...," he sighed.  
  
The doctor cleared his throat. "Professor Snape suffered a deep wound in the shoulder. I cleaned the wound of the splinters. But Snape's condition reminds more of poisoning than stabbing. He has lost a lot of blood, and black stuff from the wand is all over the raw flesh."  
  
"Black stuff," Sirius repeated.  
  
"I don't know for sure what it is, yet. But obviously the wand functioned as some kind of poisoned arrow."  
  
"This is where you come in, Hugo," Dumbledore looked at Mr. Olivander. "Please tell us what you think of this." He pointed at the splintered wand which lay in a stoneware bowl on the desk.  
  
Olivander fumbled with his bag and eventually produced a magnifying glass. Scrutinising the wand and poking it with a golden needle, he muttered to himself, often shaking his head incredulously. When he looked at Dumbledore, he frowned.  
  
"I do not have good news, my friend."  
  
"Just tell us, will you?" demanded Sirius impatiently.  
  
Olivander raised an eyebrow. "Mr ... White, you have never possessed an ounce of consideration, have you? I remember you quite well - ironwood and a centaur's tail hair."  
  
"Yes Sir." Sirius looked at his boots sheepishly.  
  
"Ran out with the wrong wand twice, because you could not wait until the right one chose you."  
  
"Yes Sir."  
  
"Hugo, whatever you found out about the wand, we need to know it," Dumbledore tried to bring Olivander's mind back to the splintered piece of wood on the desk.  
  
"Ah, yes. The wand. Beautiful piece of work," Olivander said and gingerly touched the wood with his finger. "A Ragnarok."  
  
"It appears to be hollow?" Dumbledore took Olivander's magnifying glass.  
  
"Ragnarok produces wands that differ slightly from those we use," Olivander explained. "As we know, a wand itself is mere wood, and possesses only the magic the wood possesses. The important thing is the core. Where I use solid cores, Ragnarok has always preferred liquid ones. It makes the wand lighter but harder to balance. I haven't seen one for years. Of course, all students who go to Durmstrang use a Ragnarok. They are standard issue there."  
  
"So this is a Dark wand?" Sirius stared at the bowl and remembered how the wood had stuck in Snape's flesh - as if it was evil in its own.  
  
Dr Jung shook his head. "Not all Ragnarok wands are filled with poison. Mine is from the same craftsman."  
  
He drew his wand, a polished piece of silvery applewood, and laid it on the desk.  
  
Olivander's face lit up. "See, that's what I mean. Extraordinary! It is a healer's wand." He put his hand over it and closed his eyes. "Let me guess. Basilisk's tears?"  
  
Dr Jung nodded. "It has served me well. Many of my colleagues at St. Mungo's use a Ragnarok." He coughed. "Of course, as many use an Olivander, Sir."  
  
"Well, so we know who made the wand." Dumbledore stroked his beard. "What about the filling?"  
  
"It seems to be some kind of snake venom," Dr Jung explained. "All the symptoms are there, although they should be more pronounced considering how much of the stuff got into his circulation."  
  
"Naga," Dumbledore's voice was so soft they could hardly understand him. He took a deep breath and straightened with visible effort. "But Severus suffers from something worse even Voldemort's pet could induce. Something is poisoning his soul."  
  
Dr. Jung sighed. "In need for a better diagnosis, I have to agree with you."  
  
"Can you rewind the curses the wand channelled lately, Hugo?"  
  
Olivander scratched his head. "If it was intact ... But this is not really a wand anymore, Albus. This is firewood. And a pity that is."  
  
"A pity?" Sirius gritted his teeth and stared at Olivander with disgust. "This thing was used to hurt ... to kill."  
  
"It is hardly the wand's fault, isn't it?" Olivander shrugged and took his own wand. When he waved it over the splinters, all he evoked at first was a sizzling sound. But then a faint image formed in mid-air: Hands, tied by invisible ropes.  
  
"Gag and Bind, I assume."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Ben would have tied Laurel, and certainly gagged her so she could not warn Severus. But what happened before?"  
  
Olivander tried again and this time the effort brought a layer of sweat to his forehead. Suddenly another picture formed: Black fog creeping through a room.  
  
The wandmaker paled.  
  
"How can this be? Albus, I thought it has been forgotten for centuries?"  
  
The Headmaster gave Olivander the saddest smile Sirius had ever seen. "Obviously it has been uncovered."  
  
"But ..."  
  
"I know." He patted Olivander's back. "In Voldemort's hands it is even more dangerous than ever. Sirius, please go and tell Madam Pomfrey to let nobody enter Laurel's room. Now, if you'll excuse me? I really need to confer with my colleagues." He pointed at the Headmasters who had all left their frames and gathered in one around a wizard with a bald head and reddish beard.  
  
* * *  
  
Dumbledore looked down at the girl in the hospital bed. Although she slept the deep sleep the Draught of Dreamless Slumber induced, tears streaked her cheeks.  
  
"The Echo of Sraef - the fourth of the Forbidden Curses," he thought aloud. "Created by the same wizard who made the Mirror of Erised. But while the mirror reflects what you desire ..."  
  
Madam Pomfrey's changed the cold compress on Laurel's head. "Sraef," she muttered. "It is a reversal, isn't it? Echo of Fears?"  
  
"Sergio Savonarola, Headmaster of Hogwarts in the 14^th century remembers it well. They used to call it the "Soul Eater Curse". It will force the cursed to express the deepest fears of those they talk to."  
  
"When she gained consciousness before, I heard her say you'd failed us all."  
  
The Headmaster nodded and suddenly looked even older than he really was. "My deepest fear - to fail those I want to protect. She saw right through me."  
  
"No offence, Headmaster, that was not too hard to guess." Madam Pomfrey placed a wet cloth on Laurel's forehead. "I think you should undo the curse while she is unconscious - if it can be undone, that is."  
  
"I'll try. Savonarola had some difficulties recalling the counter spell. But I think with our united effort we produced a spell that will work."  
  
"Good. We really don't need another echo in Hogwarts."  
  
He looked her straight in the eye. "What is your deepest fear, Poppy?"  
  
"To have someone die in my care," she admitted without delay. "Oh, and spiders! Big hairy spiders."  
  
With a faint smile the old wizard laid a finger on Laurel's lips and started reciting a sentence over and over again. Darkness rose in all corners of the room, clotted together and formed a whirl of words, wails and gasps. Madam Pomfrey wrung her hands but endured the attack courageously. Dumbledore repeated the spell again, this time touching Laurel's eyes, and then finally her forehead. Like a bad dream the darkness faded away. The Headmaster blew out a breath of relief.  
  
"That should do it. But we won't know for sure until she awakes. I'll send somebody to help you. You shall be busy looking after Professor Snape."  
  
The matron who had lost all her cheery manners in the last hour slowly shook her head. "There is not much Dr Jung or I can do for him. Maybe a potion to keep the pain at bay. He won't respond to a healing spell, not with the Dark Mark still on his arm. So it is back to hope and loving care."  
  
Dumbledore sighed and looked down at Laurel who was still crying in her sleep. "Minerva and I saw it coming. Not exactly like it turned out now, but we knew that one day he would depend on this woman. Only - she just told him she'd rather die than consider to be with him."  
  
"But Headmaster, it was 'Sraef' talking, not she."  
  
"We know that," the old wizard mused. "But does Severus?"  
  
* * *  
  
When Laurel opened her eyes, it all came back instantly. Her apartment. Ben and Not-Ben. She remembered how Not-Ben had touched her forehead, her eyes and her mouth and mumbled a curse. She remembered how another spell had tied her to the chair and how the invisible ropes had cut her skin. Gingerly she felt her wrists. They were bandaged and felt numb.  
  
And then Severus ... She couldn't recall a word she had said, only the expression in his eyes. She winced and sat up.  
  
Madam Pomfrey was at her side in a heartbeat. "Easy, dear girl. Don't rush. You still need rest."  
  
"Hogwarts. I am back at Hogwarts?"  
  
"You are back and safe. In a few days you'll be as good as new."  
  
"What happened? Ben put a spell on me."  
  
"Headmaster Dumbledore could undo it. You are clean."  
  
Laurel swallowed hard. "Severus? Is he alright? I remember that we fell. Hard. There was a fight and ..."  
  
The nurse pushed her gently back into the pillows. "Professor Snape is in good care," she appeased. In truth the Potions master lay shivering with fever in his quarters, but Madame Pomfrey doubted that it would do her patient any good to get up yet.  
  
"You must rest and then everything will be fine. You'll see."  
  
"I don't believe you." Laurel sat up. The effort made her shake. "I need to see Headmaster Dumbledore. Now!"  
  
The matron wrung her hands. The girl was up and seemed to be determined to leave the hospital. "I told you he had to leave on urgent business. But I can get Professor McGonagall for you."  
  
A knock on the door interrupted them. With a sigh of relieve Poppy saw Minerva in the door. "She wants to get up and see Snape," she whispered.  
  
"Is she well enough yet?" McGonagall inquired. Laurel looked awfully pale and tired as she sat on her bed.  
  
"Please, Minerva, will you tell her that I have to talk to the Headmaster? And I must see Severus. I must see him. Something is terribly wrong, I can feel it."  
  
Minerva sat next to her on the bed and patted Laurel's hand.  
  
"Dumbledore has been called to London by the Ministry. Arthur Weasley sent an express owl. The Department of Magical Intelligence has some information on Ben. It seems that Mr. Olsen was not what he pretended, no late-bloomer but a Durmstrang graduate who signed up with ... him." Her eyes spelled Voldemort.  
  
"Severus." Laurel's voice trembled pitifully. "Is he ..."  
  
Minerva avoided her gaze which made Laurel only more anxious.  
  
"He is alive. But ... You better see yourself."  
  
Laurel slipped off the bed impatiently. "Where is he?"  
  
Madam Pomfrey surrendered, handed her a robe and let her leave.  
  
* * *  
  
They took her to Snape's quarters in the dungeons. Laurel had been there before, Minerva could tell from the way she moved through the dimly lit rooms. When they entered the bedroom, Professor Hooch raised from the chair next to the bed.  
  
"No change in his condition," she reported. Then she saw Laurel and pity flickered over her face.  
  
McGonagall silently shook her head when the teacher tried to hold Laurel back. "She has every right to see him."  
  
Snape's lean body was covered with a duvet and a wool plaid but he shivered nonetheless. His face was drawn and gaunt, his features sharply cut and emphasised by dark shadows. Without thinking Laurel touched his forehead and winced when she felt the heat.  
  
She turned to McGonagall. "What ..."  
  
Professor Hooch gently lifted the covers so Laurel could see the bandage at Snape's shoulder. It was encrusted with blood and a vile looking blackish substance. "When Remus and Sirius found the two of you at the Quidditch grounds, you were unconscious but otherwise unhurt. Snape's rips were bruised but he managed to carry you out of the Forrest. Then he fainted. Remus brought him in on a stretcher. Poppy thought he was not too bad - until she saw this." She had undone the bandage. Laurel held her breath. A horrible wound gaped in Snape's shoulder, as if acid had started to eat away the flesh.  
  
"What is this?" Gingerly she touched the reddened skin next to the injury and saw Snape flinch with pain.  
  
"A poisoned wand."  
  
Laurel's head jerked up. A sudden memory flashed through her thoughts.  
  
"Ben."  
  
"Dr Jung thinks it is snake venom. And we know now that Ben studied poisons and potions at Durmstrang."  
  
"But can't you do anything?"  
  
Hooch shook her head. "The Dark Mark thwarted all our efforts. All we can do is hope that his will to live is strong enough." What she didn't say, was that Snape had opened his eyes only a few hours ago and muttered: "Let me die." She had not been on friendly terms with Snape before, although she somewhat admired his loyalty to his house and recognised the trust Dumbledore set in him. But the desperation in the Potions master's eyes had been more than she could bear and she had allowed herself a good cry then. Her patient had lost consciousness again and would never know.  
  
"I'll take over now." Laurel's calm voice made her jump.  
  
"But there is nothing you can do."  
  
"I can clean the wound. I can make him drink. I can keep him warm." She sat at his side and gently started to remove the sodden bandage. Then she went to the fireplace, set up a cauldron to boil water and started to rummage Snape's cabinets and storage trunks for herbs.  
  
McGonagall grasped Hooch's elbow and stirred her out of the room.  
  
* * *  
  
Laurel rubbed her eyes and suppressed the sob that threatened to rise from her throat. She had cleaned all of the black poison out of the wound and could only hope the herbs would do the rest. She had brewed tea but couldn't make Severus drink as long as he was unconscious. It was 24 hours now and he had not opened his eyes nor stopped shivering. The fire in the hearth roared and Laurel's forehead was covered with fine beads of perspiration.  
  
Sirius passed her a bowl with cold water and a piece of linen. She started to wash Severus face but it only brought him a few minutes of relief. Then he burned as he had before.  
  
"Funny where love leads us," Sirius said softly when Laurel sat down, holding her aching temples.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
He shrugged and searched for words. "I remember when we were at school. How we all envied James for having found the love of his live. Peter used to call Lily an angel," his voice trembled, "and we all silently agreed. But we all thought it was only a matter of time until we'd find our own ... angel."  
  
Laurel placed a hand over his and tried to comfort him. She knew that Peter Pettygrew had betrayed the Potters and had been the cause of their death. "James and Lilly, they were very young when they married, weren't they?"  
  
He nodded and his eyes glittered suspiciously. "Lily always said I'd never settle down. I guess that's why she made me Harry's godfather. That way I'd have a family even if I never had children of my own." His smile got bitter. "But of course we all - I included - thought I'd end up in Zanzibar or Kathmandu or some other exotic place, not as a prisoner in Azkaban."  
  
Laurel could not let him wade in bitterness. "What about Remus? Did Lilly foresee that he'd woe a prickly clairvoyant one day?"  
  
That produced a shaky laugh. "Remus has always been an incurable romantic. He should have found a nice Werewolf girl and settled down long ago."  
  
"And Severus? Did he envy James as well?"  
  
Black raised his head and stared at the shivering unconscious man under the covers. "Nobody really knew what Severus thought. Or what he felt for that matter. He was a loner and did everything to scare others away."  
  
"He said so. You and Remus and James and ... Peter, you were close friends, weren't you? Did Severus have any friends at all?"  
  
Sirius thought about it and frowned. "Lucius Malfoy. I am not sure they were friends but they hung out together. Some other Slytherins maybe. But as I said he kept pretty much to himself."  
  
"And yet you tried to kill him."  
  
She did not look at him, spoke the words as if to herself.  
  
Sirius touched her shoulder, insistently until she faced him. His eyes were very serious. "I am sorry, Laurel. If Snape could hear me I'd tell him as well. I was a teenager and never considered the consequences of what I did. No, that's not right. I knew Remus would kill him if he entered the Changing cave." He shuddered. "But at that time I could not imagine what it meant to be dead. Now I know. And I am truly sorry."  
  
Laurel gave him a soft smile. "You can tell Severus later, when he wakes up."  
  
Black sighed but kept his thoughts to himself. The Potions master did not look to him as if he'd ever wake up again.  
  
* * *  
  
Professor McGonagall laid a hand on Laurel's arm. She had taken turns with Black and Lupin at the vigil, but Laurel had not left the room in nearly three days. Minerva had begun to fear for the young witch, and Severus' condition was so bad she dared not hope anymore.  
  
"Why don't you get some sleep?" she suggested gently.  
  
Laurel shook her head.  
  
Minerva sighed. "I have been thinking," she said and put the leather-bound volume she had been reading aside. "Dr Jung says that Severus' body must be purged of the poison."  
  
"What do you want to do? Cut him up and bleed him to death?" Laurel's voice was sharper than she had intended. She was so exhausted she found it hard to concentrate. "I am sorry, Minerva. I did not mean to ..."  
  
"You have not been here, haven't you, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened?" the older witch asked, changing Severus' bandages again.  
  
Laurel shrugged once more. "No. At least I have not been told about it. What chamber?"  
  
"I just wonder," Minerva thought aloud and went to the fireplace. Throwing a pinch of Floo powder into the flames, she called Sirius' name. When the tall wizard stepped out of the fireplace a minute later, Laurel was so immersed in stirring the potion she brewed that she didn't even look at him.  
  
Minerva talked to him under her breath and accepted none of his arguments. Eventually he caved in and left again, only to appear ten minutes later, a scared looking Harry Potter in his wake.  
  
Laurel raised her head when Black and the boy entered. She had not seen much of Harry lately, but had liked him very much when she had been a student herself. He seemed taller now, his face pale and tired. There was a vertical furrow on his forehead, that made him look older than his sixteen years. As far as Laurel knew he was still a fifth year like Neville, but he had lost the appearance of a schoolboy - and she didn't dare to ask how.  
  
Sirius put a hand on Harry's shoulder, a protective gesture that touched Laurel's heart. The boy looked at the bed where Snape lay, and again at Professor McGonagall, who had started to explain something to him so softly Laurel could not hear her words from where she stood. She stepped closer to the bed and took Snape's hot hand in hers. His pulse raced with fever.  
  
Harry approached the bed after a last doubtful gaze at McGonagall.  
  
Laurel tried to smile. "Hi Harry."  
  
He stared at Snape who's head turned restlessly, bright red patches colouring his otherwise pale face.  
  
"He is not getting better?"  
  
Laurel shook her head, to desperate to answer.  
  
"Professor McGonagall and Sirius think I can help him." It was almost as if he asked her for permission.  
  
"You?"  
  
"They say it was a snakebite?"  
  
"It is snake venom, yes. But how could you ...?"  
  
The boy frowned. "I speak Parseltongue. Snakes understand what I say. It is rather unusual and I honestly have no idea why I can do it."  
  
"Parseltongue," Laurel repeated. "How is this supposed to help Severus?"  
  
Sirius stepped closer and held Harry's shoulders. "You don't have to do this if you feel it is too hard, Harry."  
  
McGonagall interfered. "Professor Snape has saved your life, Mr Potter. Try at least!" She uncovered the wound in Snape's shoulder and Laurel saw Harry flinch. "You do not need to touch him, only get close."  
  
Harry placed his hand over the shoulder wound and looked at the Professor insecurely. "Like this?"  
  
McGonagall nodded. "And now call her."  
  
"Call who?" whispered Laurel.  
  
"He'll try to call Naga to him, the snake that provided the venom."  
  
Harry's lips moved but instead of words a sound escaped that reminded Laurel of a hiss.  
  
McGonagall encouraged the boy to keep trying. Snape's body convulsed and he moaned with pain. When Laurel wanted to cry out to make Harry stop whatever it was he was doing, she saw with incredulous eyes how black liquid trickled from the Potions master's mouth, his ears, the corner of his eyes. It seemed to ooze from every pore of the weakened body until the sheets were soaking. Eventually the process subsided and Snape calmed down. His breath steadied.  
  
Harry had to hold on to Sirius, who patted the boy's back worriedly.  
  
"It is alright, Harry. You did it. That was very brave of you."  
  
Minerva McGonagall blew her nose and Laurel saw that the Professor's face was wet with tears. "I know, Mr Potter, that you and Professor Snape have had difficulties from the first day on. But believe me, he never meant you any harm."  
  
"I know that, Professor." Harry's smile was faint and the green eyes even more prominent against the blood-drained face. "I hope he gets better soon." He put his hand on Laurel's. "I really hope he gets better."  
  
* * *  
  
How did one define `better'?, Laurel asked herself, when she tiredly rubbed her eyes. Remus had ordered her to sleep a few hours, had almost frog-marched her out of the dungeons to her bedroom. He had promised to stay in the sickroom with Snape, who was getting better by the hour.  
  
As soon as the toxin had left his body, Snape recovered surprisingly fast. At least if one counted consciousness and normal temperature as recovery. When he first opened his eyes though, he looked right through Laurel. He did not react to anything she said, not even to her touch. He seemed oblivious of Remus or Sirius, who tried to make him talk, each in their own way - Remus by kindly encouraging him, Sirius by trying to infuriate him. Neither method brought any results.  
  
Dr Jung was completely at a loss. All he could say was that Snape's condition was not the same as the Longbottoms', which was cold comfort considering how empty and lost the patient looked. He accepted food as soon as it was spooned into his mouth, and water when the glass was pressed to his lips, but he never showed any sign of thirst or hunger.  
  
Laurel could only hope that Dumbledore would know what to do when he returned from London.  
  
She dressed and went to the window. Outside the day promised to get warm and sunny. A promise of spring lay in the air. If only she could make Severus leave that dim dungeon, if only she could take him outside to breath some fresh air ... It seemed ages since they had gone for walks together, but he seemed to have enjoyed it then. When she remembered the afternoon at the Quidditch field, she nearly cried.  
  
When she entered Snape's bedroom she knew that something was wrong as soon as she opened the door. The bed was empty and Remus sat in the deep chair by the fire, looking at her with a rather sheepish smile.  
  
"Where is Severus? You didn't let him get up, did you, Remus?"  
  
He shrugged. "He never asked me if I'd let him. He just got up and left."  
  
"And you did not hold him back?"  
  
"Actually, he tricked me. He sat there as if he was too weak to even bat an eyelid and the next moment I looked, he was out of the door and gone."  
  
Laurel took a deep breath to hide her sudden worry. "Gone? He could faint any minute and hurt himself."  
  
"He is in the Potions classroom, right around the corner. But he must have enchanted the door because I can't open it."  
  
He had not finished the sentence when Laurel was already out on the corridor and knocking softly at the classroom-door.  
  
"Severus?"  
  
No answer.  
  
"Severus, please talk to me. Let me in." She tried it louder but the door stayed locked.  
  
Remus stood next to her and watched her with hunched shoulders. "I tried that before. Knocking won't help. We have to find a way to break that damned door."  
  
Suddenly Laurel felt icy hands clamp around her neck. "Remus!" she gasped. Someone or something strangled her mercilessly.  
  
When Lupin turned, she was already blue in the face and desperately fighting for air. Remus drew his wand and yelled: "Get away from her! Right now!"  
  
Laurel coughed. Her knees buckled and she slumped down, until she sat on the floor, back against the wall.  
  
Remus moved protectively in front of her but looked up as if he saw something there. "Leave her alone, Sir, or this will have serious consequences!" she heard him threat, and, "No! This is not your business, House Ghost or not! Miss Hunter is not to blame for what has happened." He raised the wand and prepared to strike. "Let it be, Sir, or Headmaster Dumbledore will know you've attacked a teacher. She is a witch, for Merlin's sake! Have you no honour?"  
  
That seemed to do it, because in the next moment the threat was gone. Remus kneeled down next to Laurel and checked the reddening marks on her throat.  
  
"Are you alright?"  
  
Laurel breathed hard. "Who was that? One of the ghosts?"  
  
He nodded and helped her stand. Her knees trembled so hard she had to hold on to his arms.  
  
"The Bloody Baron. It appears he holds you responsible for Snape's condition."  
  
"So he tried to kill me?"  
  
"Every now and then a strong bond establishes between House Ghost and Head of House. The Bloody Baron is known as one of the most cruel and spiteful ghosts in Scotland and England, but I did not know he was so taken with Snape."  
  
"He insulted me when I left Hogwarts for London," Laurel remembered. She felt how a hot surge of anger swelled up in her breast. "Wrote something in my ghost-pad. He called me 'wench' and demanded I stay and ... and 'serve the noble Potions master'!" Her voice had got loud and accusing.  
  
"You must understand, he is used to people ... I mean ghosts ... do his bidding."  
  
"No!" Laurel clenched her fists. "I don't want to understand anymore. I have been patient. I did everything I have been told. But now I am sick and tired of all this. Poisoned wands. Curses. Parseltongue. Murderous ghosts. It is enough, you get that?"  
  
Lupin took her ranting like a little dog that knew it did not deserve the scolding of his master.  
  
"Shut up!" Laurel raised her hands, palms outward, to keep him from reasoning with her. "I have to get out of here!"  
  
* * * 


	20. The Dead

20. The Dead  
  
  
  
Dumbledore found Laurel at the Quidditch pitch. Carolyn Frobisher, the Hufflepuff captain, sat on the stand, watching her rather unhappily. Obviously Laurel had talked her into opening a trunk with equipment, and was now hitting bludgers with more anger than talent. While he approached cautiously, always aware of a stray bludger, he nodded to Carolyn, and the girl mounted her broom with some relief and flew back to the castle. The Headmaster silently awarded her with 30 points for not leaving Laurel alone with two very annoyed bludgers. When he was in open danger to get hit on the head he raised his wand and both balls stopped dead in mid-air.  
  
Laurel dropped the bat. Dumbledore guided the bludgers back into the case and closed it quickly so they would not escape. Sitting on top of the trunk, he looked at Laurel.  
  
"You have never been much of a fan, have you, my girl?"  
  
She shrugged. "No."  
  
"So I assume you are not here to practise your strike but only to hit something."  
  
"It's either this or I'd hit somebody." She frowned. "Have you seen Severus?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Not yet. When I arrived I found Minerva, Poppy and a very upset Werewolf waiting in front of my office."  
  
She kicked the bat to make it slide towards the case. "I am sorry for yelling at Remus."  
  
"Sometimes you have to yell, to keep your heart from exploding," the old wizard said softly. "It is not easy to live in our world, is it?"  
  
Laurel drew a deep breath and rubbed her face. "How can I explain this to somebody who has always lived here? How can I explain how it feels to be surrounded by things I can neither see nor understand? I feel completely ignorant. Why do people get healed just because Harry Potter hisses at them?"  
  
"Ah, Mr Potter! Great idea of Minerva's," Dumbledore beamed at her. "Fawkes could not help Severus because of the Dark Mark. It binds the Death Eaters to Voldemort, and therefor they can not be healed by the magic of the light.  
  
"The venom fled Severus body and tried to get to Harry," she said. "It was scary."  
  
He nodded.  
  
"Laurel, nobody expects you to be perfect. We know how you grew up, and you are not at Hogwarts to be the great Spell master or teach Defence against the Dark Arts. You are here because …"  
  
"Because you needed somebody to save Severus." Her laughter was bitter. "And look what a great job I did."  
  
"You misunderstood me, if you think that this is the cause of your presence here. Of course I want you to help Severus. But at the same time he is required to save you."  
  
Laurel hunched on her heals and started picking daisies from the lawn. "I don't need saving."  
  
"Everybody does." Dumbledore's blue eyes saw right through her, as if there was something only he could perceive.  
  
"It is only that I sometimes wish I'd grown up here, with all this, spells and ghosts and wands."  
  
"And you think that would make it easier?" His attention had returned to her.  
  
"Severus and I would have met earlier. Before life broke him and …"  
  
"Before it hurt you."  
  
She sighed and it sounded more like a sob.  
  
He patted the trunk. "Come sit with me, Laurel. Talk to me."  
  
"Your world is so full of pain and angst. Doom lays like a shadow over everybody."  
  
"It has not always been like this," the Headmaster interrupted. "You just came here at the worst time possible. A time in preparation for the great war to come. But believe me, even now people fall in love, are happy and have children."  
  
"Wars always seemed to happen somewhere else in my world. Life did not hurt me, not really. Not if you know how others suffered. Severus, Harry, Neville. At least I had my parents, my family. I never had to face the world alone."  
  
"But we all have to, sooner or later."  
  
"But still, I have been lucky …" Her voice faded and she kept her gaze carefully adverted.  
  
"And this?" He took her left wrist and gently traced the faint scar. "There was one moment when you did not feel lucky."  
  
Laurel shook her head. The memory had faded like the scars. "I was young, barely sixteen. It was a teenage romance, much more from my side than his. For him I was … just a friend, I think. But for me he was … everything."  
  
"Too many emotions you could not restrain."  
  
"Maybe." She looked at the scars and then at Dumbledore. "Eventually he ended it. It was as if he'd pushed me into an abyss, pitch-black, bottomless. I fell and fell and nobody was there to catch me."  
  
He patiently waited until she found words. "I wanted it to stop and this was the only way I knew. A coward's way out. You'd have thought I'd learned something. But with Ben or Severus in that room, I did not know another way, again," she said bitter.  
  
Dumbledore gently touched her cheek and brushed away the tears.  
  
"No. The first time you sought a way out of your problems. The second time you were ready to sacrifice yourself. I shall not judge what you did when you were so young and desperate. But sacrificing your life for somebody you love is a decision you must not belittle. You have been very brave."  
  
"Brave!" she snorted. "Yeah right. You should have seen me, I almost fainted when the Dumbledore in my flat changed into Ben!"  
  
The Headmaster chuckled. "Now, I'd probably have fainted as well." He got serious again. "Minerva and I have for many years now discussed what kind of woman was needed for Severus to make him … happy."  
  
"Obviously not my kind."  
  
"No, my child, you did nothing wrong. In the contrary, you did so much better than we could hope for. Minerva always feared that he'd fall for some young thing, someone shy and sensitive and fragile. Someone who'd be scared by his cynicism. Someone who'd let him retreat into his shell when he felt like it."  
  
Laurel looked at him and gave him the ghost of a smile. "Well, I certainly did not do that. I left him when he needed me here. I should have been more patient."  
  
"No, he had to take that important first step. He came to London to admit he needed you. And you, Laurel, you learned to not be confident with what you got. You avowed that you needed to give yourself."  
  
"All I gave him was a poisoned wand in his shoulder."  
  
"You are not responsible for that. It was Ben who attacked him, not you."  
  
„So pray tell me, why won't Severus talk to me then? Why does he look through me as if I wasn't there at all?"  
  
"You really don't remember?"  
  
"Remember what?"  
  
"The night, when Ben used you as bait to get Severus?"  
  
"I only remember I could not talk or move. I could see though. I saw Severus Apparate. He cast 'Finite Incantatum' on me."  
  
"To undo the spell that gagged you."  
  
"But as soon as my hands were freed I could not hear anything anymore. I was deaf."  
  
"Anything else you remember?"  
  
"I felt this incredible emptiness. It bled me, took away all warmth and joy. Like a black cloud it crept towards Severus. I knew it would swallow him eventually."  
  
"So you climbed the window sill."  
  
"I couldn't take the pain in his eyes any more."  
  
"You tried to kill yourself, to make it stop?"  
  
She bit her lip.  
  
"Ben cast several curses on you, Laurel. Some minor and easy to recognise and undo. Like the spell that left you mute. But he also cast a long forgotten Forbidden Curse. A curse that will certainly make him meet the Dementors in Azkaban one day."  
  
"It made me … move my lips."  
  
"Not only that. The curse made you talk although you couldn't hear it nor remember a word you said."  
  
"How is that possible?"  
  
"It wasn't really you talking. It was Severus."  
  
"Severus?"  
  
"You just functioned as an echo of his inmost fears."  
  
She covered her mouth in horror. "No."  
  
"And imagine what it did to him, to hear from you that he wasn't worthy of your love ... That he'd never have a family, that you would never want a child with him - out of fear that he would abuse his own kids as his father abused him."  
  
"Abused him … But I didn't even know about his father! He never told me."  
  
"What you said has nothing to do with what you know or do not know, but all with what Severus feels and fears. Julian betrayed any confidence his son placed in him. It is understandable that Severus fears that he'd do the same if he ever had a child."  
  
"Oh please, stop!"  
  
But Dumbledore had to continue. "You accused him that he was a Death Eater and would never change. That I didn't really trust him but only used him to bring Voldemort down. And that you could bear his touch no more."  
  
"How do you know all this, Headmaster?"  
  
"I have not been there, but I have known him for many years, since he was but a boy. So I can anticipate some of his fears. But I am afraid you'll have said even worse things, things hidden so deep in his heart not even he himself knew about them."  
  
Laurel fell apart. How could she ever make up for the things she had obviously said?  
  
"Does he know? Does he know it was a curse, not my own words?"  
  
"Not yet." Dumbledore shook his head. "I just came back from London and found everything in turmoil. Severus locked himself in his classroom. Madame Pomfrey was supposed to explain about the curse, but felt he was not ready yet."  
  
"But if you tell him …"  
  
He stroked his beard and pushed his glasses back on his nose. "You know about Severus' past as a Death Eater," he stated.  
  
She nodded.  
  
"The Dark Lord methodically purges his followers of all emotions, all hopes - until all they have left is their loyalty to him. Severus was stronger, more persistent, and thanks to his tie to you he lasted much longer. Your love, the hope for a life with you, kept him going - even if he could not admit it to himself until lately."  
  
"And now I have taken that away from him …"  
  
He grabbed her shoulders and shook her hard. "No! Don't do that to yourself! It was not your fault and you can't help him if guilt eats you up.  
  
"But what if I hurt him even more? What if you are wrong and I am not meant for him?"  
  
He gave an exasperated sigh. "You children believe that I know it all. Well, I don't. I can't see the future. All I can do is hope. And so can you."  
  
The Headmaster stood up and took her hand.  
  
"You must decide now, dear girl. This decision is final and can not be reversed. You must be aware that Severus will in all probability never leave Hogwarts, even if we win the coming war. With his ability in Potions they would gladly hire him on in any Potions lab in the wizarding world. But this place is the only one that will give him peace of mind. So if you feel you can't live here, if you'd suffer …"  
  
"I'd suffer more without him," she said with new-found calm.  
  
"Will you accept your power and the responsibility that comes with it? Will you love him? Torn and damaged and troublesome as he is?"  
  
She smiled faintly at him. "You love him that way, too, don't you?"  
  
He returned the smile. "I never had a son. I have watched so many children grow up here in Hogwarts, and some of them … they are more than students."  
  
Laurel's face got earnest and serious. "I love him."  
  
"Then let us make him see reason. Wait for me at the staircase to my study. I have something I want to give to you both. I'll go and get Severus."  
  
"But he won't open the door. He would not let me in. Neither me nor Remus."  
  
"But he'll see me. He'll have no choice."  
  
* * *  
  
Severus Snape stood in the middle of the potions classroom. But he saw none of the wooden desks, not the quills hastily dropped when class was over. He didn't smell the stench of experiments gone dreadfully wrong. He stood in the dark and was surrounded by the dead.  
  
Who ever said the dead were silent? He knew better. For years they had hunted his nights and now they had finally made it into his day. And they never ceased reminding him of what he had done and of the lives he had ended in Voldemort's services.  
  
His shoulder hurt and his ribcage throbbed. Bleak desperation crawled into his soul and spread.  
  
"You are almost there," the voices whispered. "Dead."  
  
"The Dark Mark wont go away. It eats you up from inside."  
  
"And now you are all empty," the voices whispered maliciously. "And cold."  
  
"Worse than dead."  
  
"You failed us, Potions master."  
  
"They are right, Severus."  
  
Snape turned violently and saw Dumbledore. Apparently the Headmaster had Apparated into the room.  
  
"Not now, Albus. Keep out of this."  
  
The older wizard didn't pay attention to Snape's words. He stood next to him and pointed to the far corner of the room. "That one over there, what did he just say? You were worse than dead?"  
  
"You … you see them?"  
  
The Headmaster nodded gravely.  
  
"This is not your business, Albus," Snape croaked. "Go away."  
  
"I made it my business when I believed you that night you came to me and confessed being with Voldemort. I made you my business then."  
  
Ominous silence filled the room, even the dead seemed to listen curiously.  
  
"I thought I could do it," Snape stated flatly. He could face neither Dumbledore nor the dead who crowded the desks. So he closed his eyes. "I was willing to repent."  
  
"That is why I offered you the position as Potions master."  
  
Snape sneered, a faint memory of his former cynical self. "To make me pay for the wrong I did."  
  
"To make you see that you had it in you.. You are a good teacher, Severus. There are students who would have chosen the Dark path hadn't it been for you."  
  
"Ah, because of my patience, I assume. Or my soft manners."  
  
Dumbledore's mouth twitched. But he remained serious. "For the high standards you set. And for the passion you teach with. I mean - Potions! An exact science. Every student's pet hate. But then they recognise that you - so detached, so cold - you are passionate about it. So there must be something to it, they think. Something they want to discover themselves."  
  
The dead applauded soundlessly.  
  
"I took that position to make amends."  
  
"And so you did. But not by suffering. By living." He laid a fragile but surprisingly strong hand on Snape's shoulder and made him turn. "Look at them, Severus."  
  
"I don't need to. I know their faces. I know their every feature."  
  
"Look at them, Severus."  
  
Snape opened his eyes. The dead stood and met his gaze patiently.  
  
"They feel you failed them."  
  
"I did."  
  
"Maybe. But not by living. By dying inside. By letting it happen, letting the Cold and Dark take over and kill everything that was warm and alive in you."  
  
"You don't understand, Albus." Snape yanked his shoulder away and clenched his fists. "I have no right to live. I made sure they won't."  
  
"No, it's you who doesn't understand! Who will remember them when you are dead? Who will stand for them? They feel betrayed that you won't live for them. You owe them. You are their connection to this life. But you've let go."  
  
Dumbledore felt approval from the silent audience. "The nightmares ceased some time ago, didn't they? The dead would still crowd your dreams but not threaten you any more. That was because you were happy then. They are not up for revenge, my dear boy. They know it won't bring them back. They only tried to keep you from taking another life. Your own."  
  
Severus wouldn't give in.  
  
"No." The simple word was uttered in such dreadful desperation it made Dumbledore's heart tremble.  
  
"You claim to be my friend, Albus, but let your friendship not impair your vision. I was a Death Eater, for Merlin's sake! Somehow I feel I still am. I may have forgotten it while Laurel was with me. But then she reminded me …"  
  
"It wasn't Laurel talking. It was Sraef." Dumbledore didn't give way. "The Echo of Sraef."  
  
Snape stared at him. "The lost Forbidden Curse? It is ancient, forgotten. Nobody knows the exact words."  
  
"Apparently someone does. And taught Mr Olsen how to use it."  
  
"Ben? He was behind all that?"  
  
"Somebody who is darker and older than Ben," the headmaster mused. "You found Laurel tied to a chair. She tried to talk but seemed to be gagged by a spell, isn't that right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So you cast 'Finite Incantatum' to reverse the last spell?"  
  
"I did."  
  
Snape's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "I took away the silence only to give way to another curse? Why not hit me with the Imperius? Or a muggle cricket bat?"  
  
"Imperius needs a lot of energy. More than Ben could muster. And the intention of the curse was not to kill you right away but cause as much pain as possible. Oh, whoever made that plan, he knows your mind. The Echo was supposed to make you kill Laurel. Even kill me - or who you thought was me. And then commit suicide or turn yourself in to Azkaban. In your state you would have survived for a very long time, and you would have suffered. The memory of killing Laurel would have destroyed you eventually - but very very slowly."  
  
"Why would I kill her? For telling the bitter truth? For making me see reality as it is?"  
  
Impatiently Dumbledore rose his hands and muttered a muggle curse word he had picked up somewhere. "Severus, I always thought you a reasonable man! Does the Mirror of Erised show us reality? Or what you call 'the truth'? No! The Mirror lets you see what you wish for. The Echo lets you hear what you dread. Fear is a dragon very hard to slay."  
  
Snape stood there and let the words sink in. He faced the dead.  
  
"It felt … true."  
  
A sigh trembled through the room.  
  
"Because it is in you. Your very own fears. You could believe Laurel's words because she only said what was screaming inside of you."  
  
Snape exhaled slowly.  
  
"How can I go to her and ask her to stay with me, if all I can offer her is my fears and my nightmares?"  
  
Voices started to whisper, not furious anymore but reassuring. The dead gathered around Dumbledore and Snape until the two were surrounded by faces, transient and pleading.  
  
"The nightmares won't come again unless you decide you'd rather remain a living corpse." Some of the dead reached out to touch Snape's arm but their fingers went right through flesh and bone. The dead agreed.  
  
"As for your fears, now that you know them, you will have to find something that you can set against them. Laurel's love, for instance. If you accept that, if you let her love you, the fears will vanish. I told the two of you before - it is all a matter of filling each other's void. Damn it, Severus! She would have jumped off that window sill to stop Ben hurting you. Don't blow this chance, my boy."  
  
Snape bowed his head.  
  
Without a sound Dumbledore Apparated from the dark room.  
  
And while the dead slowly took leave, Snape stood there and felt this heart go back to life. It hurt, and this time he welcomed the pain.  
  
Then the Potions master left the dungeons to face his fears and worse - his desires.  
  
* * *  
  
Laurel, Sirius and Remus stood at the foot of the winding stairs to Dumbledore's study. When they saw Snape, the two wizards stepped aside.  
  
The Potions master froze and stared at Laurel, and she stood, her hand gripping the railing, and stared at him.  
  
Then, at the very same moment, he made a tentative step towards her and so did she. As if drawn by an invincible power they met and stood, both insecure what to do now. Snape's black eyes burned but they were not empty anymore. Laurel sighed with relief and cupped his face with both hands. For a moment Snape closed his eyes, then he bowed his head, until his forehead touched hers.  
  
"I am sorry," she whispered.  
  
"For saving my life?" he asked hoarsely and drew her closer.  
  
"For saying what I said."  
  
"It was the Curse, not you."  
  
"No. Not I."  
  
"I meant everything I said before the curse hit me."  
  
"I didn't hear anything. You'll have to start over."  
  
And so they stood, her head nestled on his shoulder, his face buried in her hair.  
  
  
  
Clearing his throat loudly, Sirius patted Snape on the back.  
  
"Dumbledore says to come in as soon as you are ready. No password required. Don't let him wait. He is pretty excited about something to do with that old wizard, Leander."  
  
Laurel and the Potions master went up the stairs.  
  
Remus watched them until they entered the study, then he turned to Sirius.  
  
"Well?"  
  
Sirius scowled. "Ok, I admit it. She is good for him."  
  
Remus just cocked his head to one side. "And?"  
  
"You win."  
  
His friend held out a hand and raised one eyebrow.  
  
"What else do you want? I have said it. You were right and I was wrong."  
  
"Fifty galleons."  
  
Sirius snorted and dug in his sleeve for the money.  
  
"I am going to be a married man soon, I'll need the money," said Remus.  
  
Black shook with laughter. "You, married? Does Serene already know of her luck?"  
  
"Not yet," Remus gave him a lopsided grin. "But soon. If these two can make it, so can we."  
  
* * * 


	21. Leander's Map / Part 1

21. Leander's Map / Part 1

Dumbledore waited for them in his office. But he was not alone. A small wizard, fragile with age, sat at the desk, a large parchment in front of him. When Snape and Laurel entered, he looked up. His eyes were misted, like frosted glass. With shock Laurel recognised that he was blind.

The Headmaster smiled at them. "Ah, there comes the happy couple."

Snape shot him a gaze that would have driven any student to tears. Laurel squeezed his hand in reassurance.

They sat down while Dumbledore helped the old wizard to spread the parchment all over the desk. When all four corners were safely weighted with a spell, the blind wizard conjured two small ink-bottles and a quill. Then he spoke for the first time.

"Ready when you are, Albus."

Dumbledore cleared his throat. "Laurel, Severus, let me assure once more that I am very happy about the outcoming of the past events."

Laurel smiled at him with endearment. Had it not been for the wise wizard, she and Snape would have missed each other for miles.

"I have thought about a fitting wedding-present for a while."

It was one of the very rare times Laurel had ever seen Snape blush. 

"Or if you, like so many young people today, decide to 'live together', just as well. Although I really enjoy weddings. There's always a great cake at a wedding."

Snape shook his head vehemently. "Albus, you have given us more than …"

The Headmaster rose a hand. "Let me finish. Most of all I wanted to give you something to ensure your happiness. And from several conversations with both of you I concluded that there is one thing you do regret."

"All I regret is the time we lost," said Snape. Laurel turned to him and softly stroked his cheek.

Dumbledore nodded. "The time you lost. Both of you think that if Laurel here had been admitted to Hogwarts as a child, you would have met as students. And you both mourn those years of love you are sure you would have had. You think you could have protected each other from the slings and arrows life held in store."

Laurel bowed her head. 

"Let me introduce you to my old friend and brother in arms, Leander DeVere. We fought Grindelwald back in 1945, didn't we, Leander?"

The small wizard showed a huge but somewhat toothless grin. "Those were the times, ah, Albus."

"Leander here is a cartographer."

"A cartographer?" Severus looked at the man behind the desk in awe. "There are but a few wizards who have accomplished that skill."

"Explain." Laurel demanded impatiently. With her decision to stay at Hogwarts she had consented in the fact that every day something new would come up, something she had no idea about. Severus had turned out as a patient and reliable guide in the past, and she could only hope he'd not lose that patience in the future..

But this time Dumbledore took it upon him to explain the unfamiliar term. "A cartographer draws, as the words say, maps. But not maps of countries."

"Something like the Marauder's map of Hogwarts?"

"Ah, I heard of that, yes. Nice job, especially if you take in consideration that it was produced by mere students. But no. Your Marauder's map only shows what _is. My maps show what __could be. Maps of possible lives," Leander cackled and although he was blind he looked straight at Laurel._

"A skilled cartographer can draft a map that shows every turn in somebody's life. And more. He can draw even lives that did not happen," Snape added.

Laurel's forehead furrowed.

"All our actions have consequences," Dumbledore continued. "The question is - if I turn 'right', what happens to 'left'? Is there an alternative Me who turns left and never wastes a thought about the other possibility? Cartographers can draft even these alternative lives. They can show you - no, they can let you experience - how an alternative life would have been."

It took some time until Snape and Laurel had fully comprehended what Dumbledore offered them.

"What did you mean when you said, he could let us see it or experience it, Headmaster?" Snape said finally.

"It is not an option, Albus." Leander spoke very firmly. "I told you before, they either go all the way or I won't do it."

Dumbledore stroked his long white beard. "I agree with Leander. Some cartographers will only let you _see where your lifeline goes from a certain point on. But I believe that life has to be lived, has to be experienced. Even if this experience is fast forward and remote."_

"Forgive me." Laurel rose and looked at the parchment. "I still don't understand. Leander drafts a map of a life we never had and we will know how it felt? Is that what you mean?"

"Exactly, my dear." Dumbledore pointed at two dots on the map, one blue, one green, both on opposite edges. Spidery lines appeared on the parchment, crossed and twisted, and finally joined into a strong blue-green line und stopped. "This is the life you had, so far. Mind you, Leander will not show you the future."

Startled, Laurel looked at Leander, who's blind eyes met her gaze again with irritating certainty. "But he'd be able to?"

"I could show you _one future, girl. As there are many alternative pasts, there are many alternative futures. The lines of life are not straight, they resemble a net and often different lines end up at the same point at the end. And from that point various lines fan out into the future."_

"Like Serene could only see one future. The one where you killed me. But as we know, in this life you decided not to kill, Severus. That's why Divinations will never be an exact science."

"She was pretty close though," muttered Laurel.

"Consider this is my wedding-present to you. Leander will let you experience the life you'd have had, had your lines crossed at school twenty-five years ago." Dumbledore looked intently at Snape and Laurel. "But there is a clause. Once we have started this, you have to endure it until the end. You can't just back down when it gets less pleasant than you thought."

Snape took Laurel's hand and held it, awkwardly stroking her palm. As always when he did that, her heart went out to him. She turned to Dumbledore. "So if we do it, would we keep the memory?"

Dumbledore nodded. "It will resemble the memory you might have of a dream or a story you heard. But yes, you will remember."

"We should do it then." She took Snape's hand. 

He closed his eyes for a heartbeat. When he opened them again all the helpless love and tenderness he felt for her showed without any reserve. He looked at Dumbledore. "We accept your very generous gift, Headmaster."

"Then let us not waste any more time," said Leander and took out his wand. "Albus, I need a drop of blood from both of them."

So fast that neither Laurel nor Snape could voice a word of protest, Dumbledore muttered a spell. Laurel stared at her index finger where a minuscule cut had opened almost painlessly. Dumbledore squeezed the drop of blood into the blue ink bottle. Snape's went into the green bottle.

Leander picked up his quill. "Now all you have to do is place your hands on the parchment."

Gingerly Laurel touched the now empty scroll. It didn't feel like parchment at all. It felt … alive, pulsating.

"Now, were are we?" the cartographer muttered under his breath. "Here is 'now'. But where is 'then'? No, that's too early. Ah, there it is."

He plotted a blue dot on the bottom edge of the parchment and then a green dot right next to it. Then he rose his wand and Laurel felt her consciousness split. The sensation was eerie. She still was herself, she could feel Snape's presence, she heard the fire crackle. At the same time she saw herself as a girl, eleven years old. No … she felt like an eleven year old. And most amazing, she felt like a twelve year old boy as well. The sensations and emotions choked her and she muttered a plea for help.

Dumbledore placed a hand on her shoulder. "Slowly, child. Concentrate and you will be able to keep the consciousnesses apart."

By supreme effort she managed to turn her head and look at Severus. His eyes were worried. He took her free hand into his and reassured her. "We'll be together."

"Do you feel … me?"

He nodded. "It is most peculiar."

She took a deep breath. "I am alright. I can do this."

The world split again.

_Laurel looked across the yard and tried not to stare at the boy. He was tall, dark haired and kept to himself whenever she saw him. Being a first year, she only knew he was in Slytherin from his robe, but she had heard his name mentioned by some of the older students in her house. His name was Severus Snape, and most Ravenclaws feared or hated him._

_Severus went across the yard towards the library. He felt the little Ravenclaw stare at him and shrugged. He knew what they whispered behind his back. Freak. Bully. Dark wizard. It was only his second year in Hogwarts but he had acquired some notoriety pretty soon. What did he care? His elbow throbbed painfully and he pulled the sleeves of his robe down so nobody would see the black bruises._

Dumbledore felt Laurel's pulse. "How do you feel, my dear?"

"I am fine," she assured him.

"Severus?"

Snape nodded, his eyes slightly misted. He recognised his feelings from those long gone-by school days. As far as he could see, this was not an alternative past but his own. Safe for the knowledge he had now about a girl's feelings on her first days of school. But then - in his past Laurel had not been at Hogwarts.

Pictures flashed by like lightning bolts.

_"Mr. Snape, I am very disappointed. Being a sixt year student you should know the rules by now! I shall have to inform your Head of house and the Headmaster."_

_Severus paled. Dumbledore had explicitly forbidden him to enter the restricted section of the library unless a teacher accompanied him - and guarded the books. And now this! He'd certainly get expelled. The mere thought to be sent home after only three weeks with no chance to ever return … Home where his father was … He suddenly felt sick._

_Professor Clemens stared at him, her glasses riding high on her head. They stood in the remains of a glasshouse. Shreds of glass and wood covered the ground. The potion Severus had concocted in secrecy had blown up so violently that the thatch roof lay hundreds of meters away._

_"It is my fault, Professor," a shy voice said. _

_Severus rolled his eyes. Not her again! Not the little Ravenclaw who followed him like a puppy dog. Lately he had the distinctive feeling she was spying on him because wherever he went, she was already there. He had tried to scare her away but she seemed immune to his cruel jokes. She even dared to defend others who had the misfortune to become the object of his wrath …_

_"Miss Hunter?" Professor Clemens frowned. „Do not tell me you have been part of this! Theft of a restricted book, handling of explosives outside the Potions lab. Destruction of school property."_

_"I am not part of this, Professor," Laurel said._

_Severus clenched his fists. As much as he detested the idea to be saved by this obnoxious girl - for a moment he had felt pardoned._

_"It was my idea and my doing alone. He," Laurel nodded at the boy who stared at her in disbelieve, "was just spying at me."_

_Severus found her in one of the greenhouses next afternoon. She sat on a wooden bench, a pile of pots and saplings in front of her, crying silently._

_He cleared his throat. "Laurel?"_

_She did not look up but kept planting and sobbing._

_He sat next to her on the wooden bench._

"I … apologise." It didn't come easy but he meant it. Her tears scared him. She had always been a fierce little creature, ever ready to defend others or stand her ground. He had never seen her cry, not even last year when he made her favourite books go up in flames to keep her from following him.

_She sniffled. Her eyes were puffy and her voice shaky when she answered. "What do you care?"_

_Severus passed her a reasonably clean handkerchief. "I didn't ask you to lie for me."_

_"They would have sent you away."_

_"So?"_

_She blew her nose and sniffed. "It would have been unfair. They should not keep us rom knowledge."_

_"Ah, a true Ravenclaw is speaking!"_

_"There shouldn't be a restricted section in the library. That way they only force you … some of us … to try stuff in secrecy. I had to borrow some of the History books since Professor Ranke considers me too young to read them."_

_He thought about it. Potions was the only subject that truly fascinated him. And he was so far ahead of his class it simply bored him to death. Maybe she was right._

_"So what is your punishment?"_

_"100 points. That is bad. But there is also the damaged greenhouse. My parents could never afford to pay for it. Dumbledore showed mercy and will let me pay it off with work. I'll tend to the greenhouses in my spare time. All year long. Probably for the rest of my life."_

_He stared at her. "I have the money. I will pay for it."_

_"Ah, sod you, Snape," she spit and threw his damp handkerchief in his face. "Keep your money and your apologies to yourself. Not all problems can be solved with money!"_

_He calmly picked up the handkerchief and mused why he didn't feel the cold anger that usually choked him whenever anybody insulted him._

_"What are you talking about?"_

_"I'll spend all my spare time in the greenhouses and because of that, I'll fail Potions. My grades are abysmal anyway but if I don't have time to study, I'll fail for sure."_

_"Fail?" He sneered. "You are a Ravenclaw. Your kind studies until they drop. They don't fail any subject. Well, maybe Quidditch, but nothing you can learn from books."_

_"But Potions! I simply don't get it. I tried, I read the damn book over and over again. It just doesn't go together. And now I won't have the time to do extra study."_

_He stared at the distant sunset. "I could help you. I am good at Potions."_

_He would come to the greenhouse every evening and sit at one of the tables with her Potions book in his lap. While she pruned frail stems, potted saplings and watered the many different plants Professor Fern kept on the shelves, he went over the lessons. And he started with year one, the very basic stuff. _

_"How did you ever make it to fifth year without understanding the reaction of incense with yellow mica?"_

_She shrugged and tied the purple stem of an Icelandic lily to a supporting stick. "I can recite all these recipes by heart. That seemed sufficient."_

_"But did you never wonder how they actually worked?"_

_Laurel gave him a quick glance. She rather liked the passionate expression in his face. As cold and detached he might appear most times, when he talked about Potions a fire lit up in his eyes._

_"Mr. Snape, you seem to have developed a peculiar attachment to the greenhouses?" Headmaster Dumbledore's eyes were as always kind and blue as a baby's. Severus gritted his teeth. Had he been so obvious?_

_"I have no idea what you are referring to, Headmaster. I was simply taking a walk."_

_"I would be the last person to discourage my students from taking physical exercise." The older wizard smiled. "Just don't stay outside until after dark, will you?"_

_Severus stood there, long after Dumbledore had left. He clenched his fists. How stupid could you be? Spending hours of his precious time to try and force the exact art of Potions into that girl's head. Could this be some elaborate prank? Had James Potter finally found a way to expose his arch-enemy to the laughter of all Slytherins for spending his time with a girl from Ravenclaw? With sudden suspicion he drew his wand from his sleeve and muttered "Declaratio!" Had he been under a spell the Declaration-Charm should uncover it. He would hear a warning bell. But he didn't hear a thing._

_He'd stay away from her. He had enough problems as it was. Only five weeks until Christmas and he still was not sure if he would be allowed to stay at Hogwarts. Better not to aggravate Dumbledore. Laurel would have to study on her own, without his help. For her own best._

_He stayed away for three days. At first Laurel waited for him, then she slowly had to accept he wouldn't show up anymore. It hurt more than she was willing to admit, and she had to constantly remind herself that she didn't care for him to not start crying again. Her room mates wondered about her behaviour enough as it was._

_When she looked up and saw him standing in the doo of the greenhouse, her hands suddenly shook so hard she dropped a pot._

_"Your eyes are puffy. You cried," he said softly._

_"I missed you." _

_"You cried because of me?" His voice sounded incredulously._

_"I missed you," she repeated without looking at him._

_Severus watched her, unsure what to do. He had never noticed how lovely she was. Her hands were covered with garden soil and a slight scratch on one cheek showed she had been working on the prickleweed plants, Professor Fern kept at the back of the greenhouses. Without thinking he reached out and touched the grazed skin. She didn't flinch, just looked at him with warm brown eyes._

_"We should not be here, together."_

_"But why? We haven't done anything yet but talking and revising Potions."_

_"Yet?"_

_She blushed and twisted the apron in her hands._

_He couldn't suppress the joy he suddenly felt._

_"Would you mind if I … if I kissed you now?"_

_"No," she stammered. "I mean, I wouldn't mind. Only I have never …"_

_"Me neither," he said softly. _

_His hands cupped her face. Laurel forced herself to keep her eyes open, to take his eyes in, the long lashes, the sensual mouth. His hair was too short, it would be a lovely shade of black, she thought, if he wore it longer._

_Severus' lips lingered over hers for a second, as if he had to dig up the courage to touch her in such an intimate way. He had imagined this moment for so long it alsmost scared him to be so close to her. She smelled of earth, of sun and fresh green grass. Her eyes, so warm, so radiant with tenderness, ensured him. She stood on tiptoes and that slight elevation was enough to let their lips touch._

_The kiss was soft at first, nothing but a whisper. Then it got warmer, more passionate and Laurel gasped in surprise when the tip of his tongue stroked her lips and begged her to let it in. She had heard about French kissing in the dorm, of course she had. She was sixteen after all, and sometimes she felt like the only girl her age who had never been kissed. Until now, by Morgaine, until now .. If only she had know how good it felt, she'd have kissed him weeks ago! He explored her mouth, slowly, and with a soft moan she started to retaliate._

_Eventually she had to catch her breath and looked up at him. "Not bad for a first time."_

_Severus stroked her hair and let the pleasure wash over him like a warm rain. "Not bad at all," he smiled down at her._

_They walked back towards the castle. On the snowcovered lawn stood an old mighty blood oak, now bare of leaves. They had their routine by now. At the tree they would part and Laurel would sneak into the hall first. Severus would follow fifteen minutes later, as to not rise any suspicion._

_But on this evenings they remained together, hidden by the huge trunk, for a few more minutes._

_"What will the Ravenclaws do if they ever find out about us?"_

_"They'll try to talk me out of it."_

_He gently stroked her cheek. "Ah, you Ravenclaws. You always believe in words and reason. And they'd be right to warn you off."_

_"Why?"_

_"I am a Dark Wizard, remember? And a Slytherin. That makes it a question of house pride as well."_

_"What will the Slytherins do?"_

_"They'd make your live hell. I'd understand if you .."_

"Hush …" She placed a finger on his lips to silence him. "Sod Slytherin. And Ravenclaw for all it matters. The only house we belong to is … the greenhouse." She kissed him one last time, very gently but with growing passion. 

_Then she ran off to the castle._

Laurel looked up and had problems to focus. Snape still stared at the map as if it was a window into heaven - which it was rigth now, she had to admit. 

Dumbledore laid a hand on her shoulder to steady her. "Try not to switch realities too fast, Laurel," he warned gently.

She smiled at him. "I just wanted to thank you, Headmaster. I knew it would be good, but this is …"

His eyes clouded with sudden sadness. "Do not thank me before you have seen it all, girl."


	22. Leander's Map / Part 2

22. Leander's Map / Part 2

_"If I boil a quart of honey with grated sand flies and a spoon of sulphur, what shall I get?"_

_Severus lounged on straw-bundles in the corner of the greenhouse. Spring had come fast, and the greenhouse was filled with plants of all sizes and colours. There was no place to sit on the benches. Laurel stood by the table and covered Lavender seedlings with earth._

_"A spoon full? Would that be a teaspoon or a soupspoon?"_

_"A teaspoon," he replied casually._

_"You'd get a real mess then. It needs at least two soupspoons of sulphur to balance the effect of the sand flies and keep that concoction from exploding."_

_"Heureka!" Snape shut the book triumphantly. "She's got it!"_

_Laurel smiled and set the planting stick aside. She wiped her hands on the apron. "I am a good student?" she asked and her eyes lit up._

_"Yes, you are."_

_"I deserve a reward then." The mischief in her eyes made him get all warm inside._

_"What kind of reward are you thinking of?"_

_Instead of an answer she stepped closer to where he lay. Straddling him and secretly pleased about his gasp of surprise, she brushed his lip with her fingertip._

_"I'd like to ...," she tried. Blushing and avoiding his gaze, she let her finger trail down his neck._

_"What? What would you like to do?" Severus had troubles to find words._

_"Touch you," she mumbled._

_He cleared his throat. "Help yourself."_

_She nestled at the buttons that held his robes together at the neck and bared the pale skin of his breast. Taking her time, she gently traced his collarbone, let both hands slip under the robe and then caressed his ribs, his nipples._

_"Am I a good teacher?" he whispered hoarsely._

_"Yes."_

_"So I deserve a reward as well, don't I?"_

_She bit her lip and looked down at him. Very slowly she opened the clasps of her robes. She wore a loose shirt underneath and guided his hands under the thin fabric. The soft skin was warm to the touch, and Severus closed his eyes so he could concentrate on the sensation. His thumbs found her nipples and caressed them through the bra. Involuntarily she clamped her hands at his shoulders and moaned softly._

_A sudden noise outside the greenhouse made them both jump. They had just enough time to straighten their clothing and to find an inconspicuous position as far from each other as possible_.

_Hagrid, the groundkeeper's assistant, stuck his big bushy haired head through the door and winked at Laurel. "Yer allright, lass?"_

_She nodded and pointed at the pots. "I am almost done."_

_"What is 'e doin' 'ere?"_

_"I am getting a couple of fresh ... radishes," Severus improvised. "For Potions."_

_"And he was just about to leave," Laurel coughed._

_"Was I?" he smirked._

_"Yes, he was." When Hagrid turned his head, Laurel blew Severus a kiss and pushed him out of the door._

_The full moon rose over the Astronomy tower. Laurel gazed at the stars. "This is so beautiful!", she exclaimed._

_Severus hugged her tighter and wrapped his cloak around them both. "Are you sure Professor Nova won't show up tonight?"_

_"Positive," she nodded. _

_"I can't stay long anyway." He pointed at a shooting star that soared across the night sky. "By the way, I have discovered where those damn Marauders go to every month."_

_"Oh Severus," Laurel sighed. "Can't you leave it alone?"_

_"No." He tightened. "I won't."_

_"What is it that infuriates you so about them? They are obnoxious, I'll give you that. Lupin is the only one who doesn't treat us Ravenclaws like bookworms."_

_He was silent for a while, searching for the right words. "Remus Lupin is always the last Gryffindor to take a shower after Quidditch."_

_"Huh? How do you know?"_

_"Because I am always the last Slytherin."_

_She turned in his embrace so she could face him. "Severus? You lost me there."_

_"He doesn't want anybody to see him undressed."_

_She waited._

_"He is covered with scars, Laurel. Scars and bruises and long bloody scratches. It is always worst after the full moon."_

_"And you think the Marauders are responsible for that?"_

_"I don't know. Yet. Today at lunch I overheard Black talk about the Shrieking Shack. So I reckon I'll find out tonight."_

_"You must go to Dumbledore!"_

_"I can't."_

_"But if they ..." she suddenly understood and her eyes filled with tears. "You are the last to shower? You never take your shirt off. Not even when we ... Why is that, Severus?"_

_His voice was empty, as always when he very carefully shielded his emotions from her. "Because my father beats me. I know the signs."_

_Laurel cupped his face and forced him to look at her. "Why didn't you tell me? I thought we trusted each other?"_

_"It is not ... something to be proud of. I was afraid it ... would scare you away."_

_"Let me promise one thing to you, Severus Snape. Whatever you do, you won't be able to scare me away. No matter how hard you try."_

_He blinked. _

_"I really don't like Black and Pettygrew, and James is just so sickeningly marvelous. But they don't look as if .."_

_"My father looks like a perfectly honourable wizard."_

_"If they really abuse Remus, they are sick," Laurel shuddered. "You must go and tell Dumbledore."_

_"I can't, Laurel. If I do, he'll ask the same questions you just came up with. And I'd rather die than tell anybody about it." He drew her closer and held her in an almost painful embrace._

_"He'd understand, Severus."_

_"I don't care."_

_This way their first argument started. They fought a while and then made up, and time passed and eventually it was too late to follow Remus to the Shrieking Shack._

Dumbledore shook his head and stroked his beard in despair. "You should have trusted me, Severus. In either life you should have trusted me. And I should have listened better to what you did not tell me."

Leander looked at him. "We can not change the past, Albus," he said softly. "But the future."

_"I passed! Oh Severus, I passed!" Laurel came running to the greenhouse._

_He leaned against the wall and frowned. "I never doubted that," he drawled. "After all you had an excellent tutor."_

_She kissed him, a quick sequence of tickling kisses on his closed eyes. Smiling he let her have her will for a while. Eventually he held he wrists. "Tomorrow is the Leaving Feast."_

_She sighed. "I know. This is the first time I am not looking forward to going home for the summer."_

_Severus cleared his throat. Dumbledore had told him that Julian Snape had not allowed his son to stay at school and he did not dare to think further than the next 48 hours._

_"I'll miss you," he whispered._

_"We have one last evening together. Let's make it memorable ..."_

_"Are you sure?"_

_She looked up at him, and her eyes were full of trust. "I am sure."_

_"Then we'll meet at the hill tomorrow evening while they are all busy stuffing their faces."_

_Nobody missed them when they sneaked out of the Hall the next evening. When Laurel got to the hill, Severus had already spread a blanket on the soft grass. Laurel dropped the heavy basket and groaned._

_"I should have come by broom."_

_"What did you bring? Your bedroom and the prefect's bathroom?" Severus smirked._

_"I know you didn't eat anything. I don't want you to starve tonight. So I talked the elves into packing us a bit of the feast." Laurel kneeled next to him and gently touched his cheek. "Just promise me one thing. One day we'll have a bedroom. Not that I don't think this is romantic ..." she pointed at the tiny fires he had conjured at the corners of the blanket. "But promise me we'll have a bed with white linen sheets and soft pillows one day."_

_"I promise." He sounded very seriously. "I promise that one day we won't have to sneak out to be together."_

_Laurel kissed the tips of her fingers and touched his lips. He caught her hand and held it._

_"One more year until I graduate."_

_"One more year until you leave and I have to stay behind."_

_He cleared his throat nervously. "Laurel, I thought about this. I'll accept the fellowship the MIP offered me as soon as I am out of here."_

_"The Massachusetts Institute of Potions only takes the best of the best. I am so proud about you."_

_"My father will disown me when he learns that I'll go into research. I'll be poor as a church mouse."_

_She smiled. "Almost as poor as I am ..."_

_"Laurel, listen. I don't want to leave you but ..."_

_"I know. I want to finish school myself."_

_"But I swear that the day after your graduation I'll wait at the gate for you. I'll come to get you."_

_"OK." She blinked away the tears. "Let's cherish what we have. One more year together."_

_"One more night together."_

_"My mum sent me these," Laurel dug a handful of small foil packets out of the basket._

_"Your mum," he winced. "You wrote your mum about ... what we are about to ..."_

_"Are you embarrassed?" Laurel gave him a grin that almost split her face. "You are embarrassed! That is so sweet."_

_He wrestled her down until her back touched the blanket and his eyes were very close to hers. _

_"She is a social worker," she giggled. "She is constantly going on about teenage pregnancies. I think she started pressing condoms at me when I turned fourteen." _

_"Sounds like she is a clever witch."_

_"My parents are both Muggles. But they care," Laurel said._

_"I did a little research and there is also a magical way to prevent unwanted pregnancies," he stated and produced a vial filled with a clear green liquid. "I know how to use this. Do you know what to do with those ... squares?"_

_Laurel chuckled. "Mum made me practise it a dozen times. You put it on the ..."_

_"She made you practise it?"_

_She laughed out loud when she saw the shocked expression this face. "With a banana, Severus. With a banana!"_

_He broke down on her in faked relief. Nestling his face into the crook of her neck, inhaling her scent, he started to stroke her arms. Warm. She was so warm. Suddenly they felt very close, body to body, only separated by a thin layer of fabric._

_"Take it off," she murmured into his ear._

_He laughed soft and low and with a move of his wand removed both their robes in an instant. Then, putting the wand aside, he started to kiss her all over, her bare breasts, her naked stomach, and deeper, where he had always longed to touch her. Not in haste, in the greenhouse, in a tumble of clothes, but like this. She grabbed his hair when he gently spread her tights and started to tease her there._

_He propped himself on his arms so he could see her flushed face. "Those precautions, we should take them now, I think. Because in about a minute I won't have enough blood left in my brain to think clearly."_

_Laurel laughed shakily and sat up. Severus counted ten drops of the bitter liquid onto her tongue. She pulled a face. "Disgusting." _

_He took his dose and shuddered. "Awful."_

_She opened the foil package and blushed. "Do you want to ..."_

_"Since you practised this so many times," he suddenly had trouble breathing, "I'll let you take care of this." He moaned softly when she touched him, when she unrolled the silky material and, by putting it on him, stroked his erection. She had touched him before, but not like this, never skin to skin._

_"I don't want to hurt you, Laurel," he muttered when he laid her back on the blanket again. "I have been told, the first time is not very pleasant for the girl. But I'll make it up to you."_

_"It can hardly be ..." she groaned when he took one of her nipples in his mouth and started to suckle, "can hardly ... be more pleasant than ... this."_

_She opened for him. She had never felt like this, scared and eager at the same time. She held on to his shoulders and closed her eyes. It hurt, but not as much as she was prepared to endure. And it was over the second his mouth covered hers, and he began to move in sync with his tongue. _

_"Look at me, Laurel," his breathing quickened, "please look at me."_

_She opened her eyes only to drown in the depths of his black gaze. The throbbing waves of heat spread all over her body. With his last thrust she cried out his name._

_Much later, when the sun rose over the first turrets, he cradled her in his arms. "Let's say goodbye now," she whispered. "Not on the train."_

_"I'll see you on the first day of September," he kissed her on the forehead. "It won't be long."_

Snape winced. With all the strength he could gather he turned his head from the parchment towards the Headmaster who sat in a chair slightly behind him and Laurel. Snape's voice was rough with pain. 

"No, Albus! Not this."

Dumbledore's gentle eyes watched him, full of pity and compassion. "I told you before you had to endure it to the end."

"But this ... is cruel. Laurel must not go through this. Spare her. I beg you.

Dumbledore shook his head. "I can't, Severus."

Black anger flashed in Snape's eyes. Laurel, aware that something was wrong, tried to surface from the flood of emotions and images. The happiness of that first encounter still lingered. She felt Severus' hand on hers, trying to remove it from the parchment. The cartographer grabbed the wizard's wrist and held it with an iron grip.

"She will share your pain. You will share hers. There is no other way. Face it."

Snape closed his eyes. He knew too well what was going to happen now. 

Laurel reached out for him, moved closer until her thigh touched his and he could feel her warmth. "Severus?"

His breath steadied. "Let me hold your hand, my love."

_"Darling, where'd you get this pretty box?" Laurel's mother asked teasingly when she helped her unpack her trunk. Laurel sat on her bed and folded robes to be put away until her return to Hogwarts. A summer in blue jeans was something she looked forward to each year. Being a Muggle had its advantages._

_"A box?"_

_She grabbed the little velvet box but her mother was faster and opened it laughingly. "It is empty," she said disappointed._

_"Empty ... I ... yes, I bought it to keep my earrings in there," stammered Laurel and hid the box under her pillow at the first chance._

_When her mother had left the room, she opened the little case with trembling fingers. There was nothing to be seen. She touched the velvet cushion and yes, what she had hoped for, what she had feared, was there. A ring. Invisible but perfect, cool to the touch, slipping easily onto her finger._

_She kissed the ring, curled up on her bed and allowed herself to cry. One day away from Severus and already she missed him so much she felt all empty inside._

_Severus looked across the polished cherrywood table at his father. _

_"I have no idea what you refer to, Sir," he replied politely. His thoughts raced. An owl? Had Laurel really been so foolish? Hadn't he told her not to try and contact him until September? At the same time he longed for that letter so desperately it took all his years of self-restraint and cool aloofness to appear indifferent._

_Julian Snape toyed with a piece of paper. His thin mouth bent to the perversion of a smile. He looked like a predator teasing his prey. "It came by owl but it is paper, not parchment. So, tell me, Severus, who would send my son a letter like this?" He pushed his plate back and rose. Severus swallowed hard but kept his eyes riveted to the letter. _

_"Looks like my son got himself a little Muggle slut." Julian swayed slightly when he reached the other side of the table. "As much as I oppose Dumbledore's bleeding heart attitude towards mudbloods, I still see the advantage of it."_

_"The advantage?" _

_Severus gritted his teeth. He was only too aware of his father's aversions against Muggle born wizards. He despised them so much he would not even join Voldemort's movement. After all, Tom Riddle himself was part Muggle and in Julian Snape's eyes no fit leader for a wizard of noble old blood.  That was why Severus had asked Laurel not to write to him. Not because he was ashamed of her but to keep her out of Julian Snape's reach. The man destroyed whatever he touched._

_"You have always been smart, Severus. Fuck the little mudblood and stay out of trouble. Slytherin girls are for marriage and breeding, to keep the old pure blood undiluted. But a wizard's body has needs, hasn't it?" He laughed and the sound echoed in Severus' ears louder than his own heartbeat._

_"They know how to please, don't they? Like it to be dominated. And if something goes wrong nobody will give a damn. Just dispose of the slut."_

_"She. Is. Not. A. Slut."_

_Julian turned on the spot and hit him square in the face. Blood shot from his broken nose and sprayed all over the white tablecloth._

_Before Severus could move, the older wizard roared "Expelliarmus!" and Severus' wand flew through the air right into his father's hand._

_"What were you going to do, Son? Attack your own father? You are just like your mother, stabbing me in the back as soon as I turn."_

_Severus just looked at him. He knew what was going to happen, it had happened before and he had always survived. But he wasn't so sure this time._

_"Crucio!"_

_A gasp of pain. Severus' body arched in sudden agony. White hot lights flashed through his mind, through his flesh. Watching his son whriting on the floor of the dining room, Julian weighted his wand thoughtfully. There was only a certain amount of time a human body could bear the Cruciatus Curse. After what seemed like eternity, he stopped it with a mere flicker of his wrist._

_Severus lay panting on the floor. Blood trickled from his bitten lip._

_Julian stood over him, an eerie smile in his black eyes. "We are not done yet, Son," he announced, rising his wand again. _

_The trembling body was struck with a violent but invisible force that tore the shirt and left a bloodied weld on the skin. Again and again the strokes fell, until the stone floor shone wet with blood._

_Finally Julian grew tired. Another vile stroke, than he put his wand back into his sleeve. "We will talk about this later. I expect company and they need not know the shame my son brought to the family name!"_

_"I ... I love her." _

_That his voice failed from exhaustion and pain probably saved Severus' life at this moment. His father just walked out and left him, where he was._

_That evening Julian entertained a party of friends. He offered the usual arrangements, the usual agreement on silence about whatever happened in between the walls of his house. And when one of his guests found the unconscious boy on the floor of the dining room, he only shrugged and let him have his way._

Dumbledore touched Snape's forehead and shook his head. "Leander, I am not sure he can go through it again. This is far too close to his own experience."

The cartographer looked up and Dumbledore saw the tears in his eyes. He had forgotten that not only Laurel and Severus, but also Leander felt the alternative life that burned its way through the parchment. 

_Laurel's eyes searched the Great Hall again and again during the Sorting ceremony. She touched the ring on her left hand for reassurance. Helen Vogler, a fellow sixth year, pushed her good-naturedly. "Who are you looking for, Laure?"_

_"Uh, nobody. Just wanted to make sure everybody is back."_

_"Not everybody," Robin Finch-Fletchley announced under his breath. "Look at Slytherin. No, not now. Casually."_

_Helen shrugged. "So what? The same ugly faces as last year."_

_"But less of them!"_

_"Snape is not there!" Helen could hardly keep her voice down. "Laurel, look! Do you think the ugly git blew himself up with one of his potions during over the summer?"_

_Laurel tried to smile although she felt like crying. Severus had not answered any of her letters nor had she got any news of him all summer long. She had searched the train, but he had not been on it. Dinner had been her last hope, but his place at the long Slytherin table remained empty._

_She sat on needles until the feast was finished and the students were sent to bed. While hundreds of excited teenagers crowded out of the hall, Laurel pushed her way through towards the High Table. The teachers had already left, only Dumbledore sat at his chair and looked at her expectantly. _

_"Now, Miss Hunter, welcome back. What can I do for you?" His smile encouraged her to speak._

_She swallowed. "Severus is missing," she finally managed, her voice trembling with worry._

_Dumbledore's blue eyes grew dark. "So I noticed. Do you have any idea why he didn't return to Hogwarts?"_

_"No. But I haven't heard from him all summer long. If he was ill you would have got an owl from his father, wouldn't you, Headmaster?"_

_The old wizard furrowed his mighty brows. "I don't think so," he said softly. Rising from the table he patted her gently on the shoulder. "Return to your house, Miss Hunter, and let me care about Mr. Snape."_

_Severus was lost in a dark maze and knew he would die here. Hot waves of pain shook his body whenever he tried to move, but the pain in his head was worse. When he heard footsteps he knew his father had returned. And this time he would kill him. He welcomed death, it would end the pain and the self-loathing._

_A hand touched his shoulder and even the gentle contact made Severus moan. "Finish it, father," he whispered hoarsely._

_"I'll take care of him now, Julian," a gentle but steely voice said, and he felt lifted onto a stretcher. "And be warned: If you ever come near the boy again, you will be sorry. Very sorry."_

_"Get out of my house, Dumbledore!" Julian Snape sneered. Severus could smell the alcohol wavering around his father even now that his nose was blocked with clotted blood. "And take this sorry excuse for a wizard with you before I lose my patience and kill off what's left of him."_

_"You already have tainted your soul with two Unforgivable Curses, Julian. One word to the Aurors and the doors of Azkaban will close forever behind you."_

_"Get going, old fool!"_

_"He is your son, Julian. How could you do this to him?"_

_Julian Snape spit on the floor and walked away._

In a painful act of withdrawal Laurel met Severus' gaze. "This happened," she whispered in shock, "not just in an alternative life. In your life as well."

She saw tears in his eyes. 

"Yes. It happened."

"But he ... your father ... he did this to you?" She touched his cheek. "Is this why you ..."

"I did not want you to know. And I certainly never wanted you to go through this." He took her hand in his and almost awkwardly pressed his face to her palm to hide the tears.

Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. "Severus?"

He looked up.

The Headmaster cleared his throat. "I am so sorry I did not understand earlier. You tried to tell me, you tried to make me see what he was doing. Maybe I just didn't want to believe it could be."

Snape shook his head. "You saved my life, Albus. Both lives as far as I can see." His smile did not reach his eyes.

"Laurel, do you want to pause for a while?", Dumbledore asked gently. "I don't know how close to your own life this gets."

She swallowed hard. "I can take it. Let's get over with is, fast."

_Laurel carefully pushed open the door to the private room in the hospital wing. Dumbledore had summoned her the day before and had told her curtly, that Severus was indeed ill and needed to stay in Madam Dunant's care for some time. The nurse and the Headmaster agreed that the patient should not be visited by students until Madam Dunant saw it fit._

_But Laurel could not wait. All night she had tossed and turned in her bed and not slept a minute, knowing that Severus was ill. Helen had thrown a pillow at her when she eventually got up at four in the morning, put on her dressing gown and sneaked out of the room._

_The corridors were deserted but for a few ghosts who played hide and seek._

_The door was not locked. Laurel slipped in and closed it carefully. It would not do to wake Madam Dunant. All she wanted was a quick glimpse at Severus, to assure herself that all he suffered from was a head cold or a broken leg, all minor illnesses that could be healed within a few hours. Dumbledore's casual remark that Severus would have to stay "some time" had really scared her. _

_Feebly she drew her wand and whispered: "Lumos." Dim light filled the stark white room. She could make out the bed and a chair by its side, a washstand and a small table with bottles and jars on it. A body lay on the bed, or so she thought, because when she stepped closer, she saw that he was in Levitation, hovering a foot over the mattress. Severus' right leg was tightly bandaged, as was his chest. Laurel held her breath. She hardly recognised the face, black and purple bruises covered every inch of it, along with bloody gashes and abrasions. When she gingerly touched his cold hand, he turned his head. His eyes were bloodshot._

_"Go away," he breathed._

_Laurel caressed his cheek, not sure if she had understood him._

_"Go away."_

_Severus sat in a chair at the window, very straight so his back would not touch the back-rest. Madam Dunant had dimmed the lights in the hospital because his eyes were still hurting. His nose had healed quickly as had the open fracture in his leg and the cracked ribs. Still the nurse was worried about the scars and about the boy's cold detachment. Dumbledore had tried to talk to him about what had happened but Severus had flatly refused._

_When he heard the door open, he did not turn his head._

_"Severus?"_

_His hands clamped around the arm-rests. He had told Madam Dunant he was not ready for visitors, not that he had had any yet except Dumbledore._

_Before Laurel could touch him, he rose and stood by the window, his back to the sinking sun, his face unreadable in the shadows._

_She looked as sweet and lovely as he remembered. "Severus?"_

_"What do you want?"_

_Confused she bit her lip. "I wanted to see you ... see if you are all right ..."_

_"Well, you have seen me. Now get out."_

_"Severus?" She stared at him as if he was a stranger._

_"I always thought the Ravenclaws' intelligence was overrated. Don't you understand? Go. Away."_

_Crossing her arms over her breast she looked at him. "What did I do, Severus? You can't send me away just like this after ... after all we had."_

_He sneered derisively. "What we ... had? I fucked you. That was all we ever had."_

_Instinctively she touched the ring at her finger._

_"You didn't take this seriously, did you? Merlin, just look at you! You are a Mudblood, a Ravenclaw, not even pretty."_

_Satisfied he saw the hurt look in her eyes. "A piece of meat. Not more. It was fun while it lasted. Now it is over."_

_"This is not you talking." She trembled all over. The shock had darkened her eyes until they were almost as black as his. "I don't know what happened but this is not you."_

_He turned away, not able to look at her any longer without crying. "Better start believing. Now get lost, little girl."_

_She ran._

_When Dumbledore knocked softly against the door, Severus had almost retrieved his icy composure._

_"Headmaster."_

_The old wizard looked at him, unsmiling. "You wanted to talk to me, Severus?"_

_The boy sat in the chair by the fire, shivering with cold nonetheless. He avoided the Headmaster's eyes and stared into the flames._

_"This is about Miss Hunter, isn't it?"_

_"She is going to hurt herself. I ... wanted to ask you to look after her." His voice cracked. "Because I can't."_

_Dumbledore remained silent. The only sound in the room came from the fire. Finally the wizard sighed with a sadness that was almost tangible._

_"I have already seen Miss Hunter," he said softly. _

_"Is she alright?" Severus could not bear the tension._

_"She cut her wrists. Madam Dunant mended them." _

_The boy breathed out, slowly, painfully._

_Dumbledore fumbled with his sleeve, then thrust a small box into Severus' hand._

_"She sends you this. I think you know what is in there."_

_"A ... ring."_

_The Headmaster's voice lost all gentleness. "You knew she'd try to kill herself. Just tell me why, Severus. Why did you want her dead?"_

_The boy shrugged and denied any answer. Only when Dumbledore finally gave up and left, Severus allowed himself to break down. "You are wrong, Headmaster," he whispered to the closed door. "I want her to live. I am dead, but she must live. Without me. The more she hates me, the easier for her."_

_Laurel stood at the hill and looked over the lake to the castle. The year had been incredibly hard. Her cut wrists had healed without a scar. But when she would not stop crying, her room mates had pestered her so long until she told them about Severus and how he had disposed of her like a broken toy. Ravenclaws were known for their sensibility and reason, but this was too much. The House of Ravenclaw stood united, Hufflepuff followed suit. Gryffindor was not too fond of Snape anyway. By Christmas nobody but his fellow Slytherins would talk to him._

_Professor McGonagall, the youngest Professor, had spent many hours with Laurel, talking to her, listening, trying to understand. Although the girl would never tell her any details about what had happened between her and Severus, she could sense the scars the betrayal had left._

_Severus at the other hand, seemed to be completely undisturbed._

_Laurel rose her head to the sun. She'd survive. She'd never trust anybody again and never get hurt. Today was Severus' graduation day. She only hoped she'd never have to see him again. Overwhelmed by tears she hid her face in her hands. _

Severus gritted his teeth. "Albus," he groaned. "Stop it. We understand. I grant you, we see your point." He held Laurel's wrists to his breast as if he wanted to make sure there was no blood.

Dumbledore placed a steadying hand on his shoulder. "It's not in my power, Severus. I told you so."

Leander interfered softly. "I didn't mean to torture them, Albus. I can't stop it now, but I can speed it up." He turned his unseeing eyes towards Severus and Laurel. "Hold on."

Flashes raced. 

_Laurel's date with the Ravenclaw Quidditch captain. Severus initiation as a Death Eater. The moment the Dark Mark was burned into his arm. Laurel's graduation day. Her, staring at the gates where nobody waited for her. Death and destruction, the rise of Voldemort, his defeat by Lilly Potter's sacrifice. Laurel trapped in a cold marriage, far away from Hogwarts. Voldemort's rebirth with Snape as his loyal servant. Dumbledore with Lupin and Black, standing on the North tower. _

_Darkness on the horizon._

Leander gently pulled the map out from under their hands. 

"You are not on our side in that other life. Neither of you," Dumbledore said softly, while he watched Severus and Laurel come to their senses. "I don't know about the future of this alternative life, but I severely doubt they will win the final battle that is to come. But we - in this life - have an honest chance. Because of you."

Snape drew Laurel into his arms, hugged her tightly, stroked her back until her sobs subsided.

Dumbledore helped Leander stand up and led the blind man to the door. "You are excused from Dinner. I assume you have better things to do. Just remember that this life may be the only one you'll ever get. Better seize it. Now."

The old wizards left.

Snape took Laurel's hand in his. "Let's get away while everybody is at dinner. I don't know what will happen if I have to face one of my students tonight." It was not cynicism, but desperation speaking.

"We need to talk, Severus." Laurel was still pale and she felt as if she'd been ill for a long time. "Dumbledore is right. This is the only life we have. I want to be part of yours."

He kissed her forehead. "Let us talk then."

* * *


	23. Safe Passage

23. Safe Passage  
  
When the gliding staircase transported them down to the corridor, they ran right into Neville and Harry, both on their way to dinner. Both boys were decked out in Quidditch robes and scarves and froze when they recognised Snape.  
  
Laurel reached for his hand and pressed it encouragingly. Then she gave him a little push towards Harry and beckoned Neville to her.  
  
"How are your parents?"  
  
"Same as always," Neville shrugged. "My grandmother sends her best wishes. She really liked you, I think."  
  
"So did I. I hope I'll meet her again."  
  
Neville threw a nervous glance at Snape. "Did he force you to come back?"  
  
Laurel chuckled. "No. It is a long story, but essentially I came back because I love him."  
  
The boy blushed violently. "And does he? Love you?"  
  
"I am about to find out in a few minutes," she whispered. „What do you think?"  
  
He scrutinised the Potions master and frowned. "He looks horribly, as if he had been drawn and quartered. If Hermione is right and love hurts, then I'd say, yes. He must love you. Terribly."  
  
Spontaneously Laurel drew him into her arms and kissed him on the cheek.  
  
  
  
Snape stared at Harry and Harry stared back at the Potions master. Finally the wizard cleared his throat. "I suppose I am in your debt, Mr Potter."  
  
The boy shrugged and nervously brushed invisible dirt off his Quidditch robes. "I didn't do anything. Or if I did, I don't know how I did it."  
  
"Still - I owe you."  
  
"And you hate it," Harry concluded dead seriously.  
  
"Indeed. I hate it." The Potions master crossed his arms over his chest.  
  
"I assume since you hated me from my first day in Hogwarts it doesn't make a difference really." Harry clenched his fists and tried to keep his voice down so Laurel and Neville would not hear him.  
  
Snape's head jerked. "What makes you think I hate you, Potter?"  
  
"Well, you made that obvious, didn't you? You wanted me expelled from school more often than I can count. You hated my father, you hate my godfather and you hate me."  
  
The Potions master drew in a deep breath and looked helplessly at Laurel. She gave him a faint smile and embraced Neville Longbottom. Now if this was supposed to be a hint to embrace Potter, the hell he'd do. Instead he gazed at the boy intently.  
  
"Your godfather and I have set our differences aside for the time being. And you are wrong to assume I hated James. True, I did not particularly like him. You do not like all the students in your year, I dare to say. How about Draco Malfoy?"  
  
Harry snorted. "Hardly."  
  
"I did not like James, but I respected his decisions. Maybe we can agree on that? We do not need to like each other. Anyway, liking each other it greatly overrated after all. But we can respect each other. At least until the war is over."  
  
They stood, and neither of them would make the first move. But then Harry smiled, just a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Snape bowed his head, just a fraction, but enough to acknowledge the smile.  
  
When Laurel took his hand, he exhaled in relief. The two boys scrambled off.  
  
"By the way, 5 points off for each of you for being late. And rest assured, Mr. Longbottom, there will be a potions class tomorrow," Snape called after them and his voice was the old silky yet menacing instrument it had always been.  
  
Laurel smiled to herself.  
  
  
  
While the two Professors wandered off towards the dungeons, Neville and Harry stood and watched them until they disappeared down the stairs.  
  
"He is back," muttered Neville.  
  
"Yeah," sighed Harry, " for a moment I thought he had gone mad. He actually behaved like a human being."  
  
They grinned at each other and ran off to dinner.  
  
* * *  
  
Snape's bedroom had been cleaned and aired by the house-elves. Nothing reminded of the sickroom it had been until lately but Laurel's books at the bedside table. Laurel lit a fire in the fireplace when she saw Snape rub his arms.  
  
"You should really move to a warmer room. Preferably one that has a window," she remarked while she conjured a tray with cups and a tea pot. This time she got it right at the first try and she took it as a lucky sign.  
  
"Severus? We need to talk about what happened in London. Before Ben attacked you," she said and passed him a steaming cup.  
  
"I came … to …" He went to the fireplace and stirred the burning logs.  
  
Laurel saw how hard it was for him and waited patiently.  
  
"I came to surrender."  
  
Her eyes clouded. "Severus, is this about power? About who of us is stronger and can make the other bid their will?"  
  
"Is it not?" His smile was bitter. "I told you before I did not know how to handle this. It scares me. It makes me vulnerable. My whole life I fought to let nobody have that power over me."  
  
"And what if you had the same power over me?"  
  
"Do I?"  
  
"You really don't know?"  
  
"You left me, Laurel."  
  
"You told me to."  
  
They stared at each other.  
  
„All the promises we made ..." her voice broke. "I promised I'd never let you push me away and then I gave in so easily."  
  
"Laurel," he groaned. "It wasn't you. It was not your life. Not our life. I … he … he broke his promise as well. He never came to get her."  
  
"Pride. Too much pride and no trust." She took a deep breath. "This must not happen to us, Severus. Not in this life." Calm but determined she went to the fireplace and lit the candle on the shelf. "As long as this candle burns, we shall not hide behind our pride. Agreed?"  
  
"No pride," he swallowed hard. To see her cry so desperately for the two people they might have been, had already shattered all the pride he'd had left.  
  
„There is nothing I can offer you," he said hoarsely. "None of the things you desire." When she tried to protest, he rose his hand. "Let me finish this. It is hard enough as it is. The war will come, and soon. All the signs are there, and though Dumbledore and the Ministry both are prepared, no-one can say how it will end. Now that Voldemort knows I betrayed him I don't know what my role will be."  
  
Absentmindedly he rubbed the mark on his arm. "But even if I can't be Dumbledore's spy anymore I'll keep fighting until it is over. If I don't make it I want you to go on and not look back. Promise me this."  
  
She just stared at him and crossed her arms over her breasts. He took it as what it was - utter refusal.  
  
He drew in a deep breath. "If Voldemort can rise to power again, all is lost. But if the Dark Lord is defeated I'll get my life back, miserable as it was. So, if I survive …  
  
"No. I shall not wait until the war is over."  
  
"Laurel, the danger …"  
  
"The Potters knew about the danger, too. But they decided to live in the present. It was all they had. Dumbledore is right. We must not mourn a life we never had. But we also must not save all our happiness for a life that may never be."  
  
"If that is so, I shall ask you to choose now."  
  
She looked up and tried hard to hold back the tears. "To choose?"  
  
"Between the life you always wanted, a house by the sea, a nice muggle husband, kids ..."  
  
"And you."  
  
He nodded, face carefully kept void of all hopes.  
  
"And if I choose you - there will be no house, no nice husband, no kids?"  
  
His dark eyes betrayed the pain. "I fear I won't be a good father."  
  
"You'll make a great father, Severus Snape," she whispered. "And our children will love you, as I shall love my husband." When he just stood there, she took both his hands and laid them against her face. "I know you must fight Voldemort or we all may die in the end, Wizards and Muggles alike. But if you get yourself killed out there I'll never forgive you, my darling."  
  
He winced when she said the term of endearment. "Are you telling me to survive or else?"  
  
Instead of an answer she kissed him sweetly, almost chaste.  
  
"I missed you."  
  
The words came out awkward and strained. Laurel dared not to breathe.  
  
"I missed you," he repeated quietly. "And I need to know what I did wrong."  
  
When she saw the hunger in his eyes, the raw desire, her heart fluttered. Her knees buckled and she had to sit down.  
  
"Love - I don't understand the rules," he tried to explain. "You left, but not because I told you to." He frowned. "After all you never do as I tell you."  
  
"You kept pushing me away. You would never let me touch you." Laurel bit back the tears when she remembered how he always seemed to petrify when she touched him. "Even when we .. had sex. From your reaction I figured you didn't want me."  
  
He kneeled down in front of her chair and took both her hands in his. "I was not prepared for the situation. I did not know what you expected me to do. You were the first woman who ever …"  
  
She laughed and could not keep the bitterness out of her voice. "Don't. You had women before me. More than just one or two judging from your skills."  
  
"My … skills?" His eyebrows rose in honest confusion.  
  
"Severus, you know exactly how to please a woman, how the female body reacts. Where to touch, how to touch, how not to ... You are either a very experienced lover or they have excellent books on that subject in the restricted section. It hurt to think that all those women had the right to touch you, hold you. And I was not allowed to get close. I thought … I thought that was your way of telling me I didn't mean anything to you." Her voice broke.  
  
Snape just stared at her in wonderment. "Are you telling me that you are … jealous?"  
  
"And what if?"  
  
"You should know by now that I am a master of deception. And I recognised early on that most people are not interested in giving, only in taking. Oh, there were women. And I gave them what they wanted and they were content, they never found out I was not taking anything. It didn't matter when they touched me. My scars always hurt, whether they touched me or not."  
  
"Severus …"  
  
"None of these women ever wanted to own my heart." His voice had lost all derision. His face was empty with pain. "But you do. And it scares me."  
  
"Because you don't trust me?"  
  
"Because there is nothing. No heart. Just … a void."  
  
Her throat tightened. "Severus, don't do this to yourself."  
  
"I will never be able to give you the love you deserve, Laurel."  
  
"Love is a seed." Bravely she traced his lip with her fingertip. "It will grow, just give it some time. You don't need to give me anything. I only ever asked you to let me love you. But you are like a minefield. I keep hurting you, and you don't trust me enough to show me the way through."  
  
"I am not the only one who keeps painful memories to himself. What happened in that other life, mirrored ours to a great extend, didn't it?"  
  
She bit her lip.  
  
"Laurel? Did you try to kill yourself? In this life as well?"  
  
"Yes," she whispered. "I did. But it was … different."  
  
"When were you going to tell me about it?"  
  
"It hurts."  
  
"I know. But I need to know about it. For the same reason you need to know about what happened in my life. It is like you said. A minefield of pain. We have to grant each other safe passage."  
  
Instead of an answer she rose on tiptoes and kissed him.  
  
"I got a gift for you," he murmured when her lips brushed his cheek. "I wanted to give you this when I came to London."  
  
Laurel tensed. "Not … not a ring …"  
  
He sneered. "Do you really think that after what we just saw … what we felt … I'd give you a ring?"  
  
She shook her head slowly. "No, you wouldn't." She took the small jar from his hand. "This is the gift? What is it?"  
  
"Poppy prepared this for me a long time ago but I never used it. Allegedly it takes a away the pain or rather numbs it for a few hours."  
  
"For your scars?"  
  
"You need to apply it and wait a few minutes. But then … if you still want to touch me ..."  
  
Her fingers closed around the jar and she held the gift close to her heart, like the precious thing that it was.  
  
  
  
They settled in front of the fireplace, on the soft rug. Snape took his wand and sealed Laurel's palms with a spell, so the salve would not numb her hands. The ointment smelled strongly of cloves and cinnamon and felt cool to the touch.  
  
When Laurel unbuttoned his shirt, he caught her wrist and gently kissed it. "Safe passage."  
  
She sighed. "When I was fifteen, I tried to commit suicide."  
  
He gingerly touched the faint scars.  
  
She swallowed hard but kept talking. "I had a friend at school, my best friend, my only friend. When he fell in love with one of our classmates, I just couldn't take it."  
  
"He was your lover?" He kept his voice carefully in check. But the mere thought of a clumsy youth hurting her, betraying her, let his anger surge.  
  
"No. He was my friend. I didn't need a lover then, but I desperately needed a friend. I was so homesick all through my school years. Robert was my confidant, my support. He protected me. And I was sure that one day he would let me give him more than just my friendship." She looked down at her wrists and shook her head. "He never gave me any signs to misinterpret. It was all in my head. But it hurt nonetheless. I just couldn't bear the pain anymore. It drowned me, suffocated me. One of the teachers found me and called an ambulance. In the hospital I swore to myself I'd never again get into a situation when my emotions would push me that far."  
  
She looked up at him. "See, that's why I had to leave Hogwarts. Why I can't go on if you don't let me love you."  
  
Snape drew her in his arms and felt with relief how she relaxed against his shoulder. No matter what had happened, she still trusted him. Completely. He knew that now.  
  
And he would trust her as well. Settling down on his stomach he rested his chin on his hands and let her apply the ointment to his scarred back. It felt good. Cool, soothing, and when she started to spread it, the touch of her fingers warmed his skin.  
  
"You asked me once if I ever felt homesick when I was a child."  
  
She remembered the first detention he had given her and her angry questions.  
  
"When I was a child I did everything not to be sent home for the holidays. As a second year I jumped off the Slytherin Quidditch stand and broke my ankle - just to make sure I could stay at Hogwarts for Christmas."  
  
She kept stroking his backs, tracing the scars, and waited until he found words.  
  
"My father was a very powerful wizard. Powerful and very easily annoyed. He used a belt sometimes and a wand at other times. Both left scars. But I guess all children have to go through that."  
  
"No, they don't!" Laurel felt her heart go out to him. "Most parents love their children and would never hurt them. Didn't anybody help you?" She put some more ointment on the scars and spread it with swift soft motions.  
  
"How could I tell anybody what he did to me? After all I deserved it. I made him angry. My mother had left when I was very young, and it was just him and me. Family. You don't betray family, do you?"  
  
"You did not deserve what he did. You were only a child then."  
  
"Dumbledore let me stay in Hogwarts most of the holidays and most summers, even though that made me a loner, roaming around empty school grounds. But there were times when even he couldn't refuse my father's wishes who called me home. After all I was Julian Snape's only son. His heir."  
  
His voice was detached and cool and only the tension in his shoulders betrayed the inner turmoil.  
  
"All those years I hated my father for what he did to me. And at the same time I yearned for his love. When I was admitted to Hogwarts I knew more spells than half of the seventh years. But not because I was so fond of learning. I knew those spells because I needed them to survive his mood swings. I was convinced that if only I lived up to his expectations he would stop punishing me."  
  
"Severus, you did nothing wrong. You didn't deserve punishment, " she repeated gently.  
  
He closed his eyes.  
  
"When I was seventeen, he would not accept any excuses, he made me come home for the summer." His voice changed, grew strangely detached. "It was not about a girl. It was nothing important really. He had friends invited and … things got out of hand. He broke my arm and most of my ribs, casually, as an amusement for his guests. One of them suggested the Cruciatus curse and he complied. Then, as I lay there, one of them …" His voice broke. "You saw what happened. You felt it."  
  
Laurel kept massaging his shoulders. All she could give him at this moment was her patience and her compassion. The memory of his pain and humiliation choked her. He remained silent for a long time, while she kept repeating the same soothing strokes over and over.  
  
"I still can't talk about it," he stated flatly.  
  
"You don't need to."  
  
He turned his head, propped himself on one elbow and looked at her.  
  
"They left me in a corner of the hall to die. Somehow Dumbledore got me out. He never told me how he knew what had happened or how he got my father to release me. He must have blackmailed him. From that moment on Albus was the only wizard I ever trusted. I barely survived. It took Poppy only minutes to mend my broken bones. But my back wouldn't heal. They kept me in levitation for weeks because I couldn't bear to touch the mattress. The wounds scarred eventually, new scars over old ones. The pain remained. It was then, when I decided to join Voldemort."  
  
"I thought it might have been the incident with Lupin," she ventured.  
  
"In that other life I … he … never saw Lupin change. But in my life James Potter virtually pulled me away from the threshold of sure death. It only reassured that I had to become one of Voldemort's soldiers.  
  
The ointment numbed the scar tissue and made him warm and drowsy. When Laurel's hands started to lightly stroke his shoulders and work on the tense knots there, for the first time in ages he felt no pain at all.  
  
"I felt trapped, surrounded by enemies. My father wouldn't mind if I died, Black tried to kill me just for fun. Dumbledore wanted to talk to me, but I refused. I had already made up my mind. I'd never be a victim again. The day I graduated I took the first step towards the Darkness."  
  
"In that other life, he never turned back. But you did. What made the difference?"  
  
"I am not sure. Maybe the memory of Dumbledore sitting by my bed in the Hospital."  
  
"In that other life the Headmaster did not forgive you … him … for what he did to … her."  
  
"But in my life Albus was there for me. I always knew that, even when I was intoxicated with power and hatred. One night we raided a village near Edinburgh for Mudbloods. I had hunted them down and watched the others do the killing. And suddenly I got a glimpse of my face in a window, and saw that I had turned into my father. A monster."  
  
She winced and tried to shake off the memory of Julian Snape reaching out and hitting him.  
  
"I went to Dumbledore that very night and he gave me something I had not asked for. Mercy. Just like you gave me something I did not ask for. Love."  
  
"It is called a gift, Severus."  
  
He sighed and kissed the hand that caressed his neck. Laurel's fingertips brushed his cheek.  
  
"You said, Madame Pomfrey gave you this stuff years ago? Why didn't you use it? It seems to be working just fine."  
  
"I embraced the pain. I needed it as a shield. It reminded me of what might happen if I let my guard slip." He closed his eyes and surrendered to her touch. "I don't need it any more."  
  
"Let me take care of you now," she whispered and kissed his neck, drawing a line of fire down his neck to his collarbone.  
  
"I remember that very kiss," he moaned softly.  
  
"Oh Severus, we … they … were so sweet. I know it ended cruelly, but …"  
  
"They were too young."  
  
"They knew nothing about life, nothing about themselves."  
  
"Are we old enough, Laurel? Old enough to carry each other?"  
  
Her lips brushed his.  
  
"That first kiss …"  
  
He buried his face in her hair. "That first night …"  
  
"It was so much more romantic than my own memories."  
  
"I … he … hurt her when they made love. Merlin," he sighed, "I can remember what a sixteen year old girl feels!"  
  
"Then you should know that it only hurt a moment. And don't forget, I can remember what a guy feels. I am sure we can use that to our mutual advantage."  
  
His eyes lit up. "You bet," he drawled. "I am a great tutor after all."  
  
"And I am a great student." Her eyes locked on his and what he saw made his breath go faster. "Let me prove what I learned." Her hands drew circles on his back and for the first time since he could remember he did not feel any pain, just pleasure. He let her discover his body, allowed her to free him of the slacks, put hundreds of tiny kisses onto his stomach until he could not stifle a groan anymore.  
  
She laughed softly. "I told you we'd make love as equals the next time we shared a bed."  
  
"I did not complain," he murmured and undressed her, slowly, teasing her with every touch. "I am only taking my share."  
  
Laurel grasped when his thumbs brushed over her nipples, encircled them. His hands wandered down her body, and again he took his time, marvelling about the soft skin, the warmth that radiated from her. She let out a gasp when his fingers slipped between her thighs and started to stroked her knowingly. She arched her back and enjoyed the sensation for a few minutes. Then she slid off him and a mischievous light gleamed in her eyes when she looked down at him  
  
"My turn," she whispered. "I remember very well what you enjoy."  
  
Without touching him, she started to lick the delicate skin at the base of his erection, soft laps, going up and down the hot hard flesh until he buried his hands in her hair and pulled her back. "If you don't stop right now, "he groaned, "we won't be equals but very sorry. I am only human after all."  
  
She smiled against his stomach and stuck her tongue into his navel before she let him lower her on her back. He moaned softly when he slid into her, when she opened for him, welcomed him to her warmth. Laurel wrapped her arms around his back, nuzzling his ear, murmuring wordless endearments.  
  
He watched her face, the flickers of pleasure move over it. And that stubborn mouth tremble for his touch.  
  
"Say it."  
  
He had stopped moving. Laurel clung to him breathlessly, desperate for release. "Severus?"  
  
"I need to hear you say it."  
  
His voice was so soft she had to pull his head close to her ear to understand the next words.  
  
"Say that you want me."  
  
It left her helpless with tenderness. Had that one moment of rejection, so many weeks ago, hurt him so deeply? She buried her fingers in his black hair, pulled his face closer, so close that all he could see was the all- encompassing love in her eyes.  
  
"I want you, Severus. I always wanted you."  
  
That did it. His hands, elegant and so skilled, raced over her body and took her to the edge. The thrusts got faster as she took up his rhythm, answered him with every breath. The frenzied pace of her heart against his only added to his need. So close. His fingers clamped down on hers. When he had her where he wanted her, moaning his name, riding the crest of passion, he helped her to let go. And in this very moment, she rather felt than heard it, breathed against the pulse at her neck.  
  
"Mine. You are mine."  
  
Only then he allowed himself to come in a shudder of release.  
  
* * * 


	24. The Mirror

24. The Mirror  
  
Laurel awoke in the middle of the night. The candle on the mantle had burned down hours ago and the fire in the fireplace was but a faint reddish glow. Lazily she reached out for Severus. But her hand only touched the cool linen on his side of the bed.  
  
Sitting up and hugging her knees, she looked out of the window at the clear night-sky. Only then she remembered with a gasp that she was in the dungeons, in Severus' bedroom. A big grin split her face. He had conjured a window, had done something to the dungeon wall to make it imitate the sky outside like the ceiling in the Great Hall. Why would any woman ever want a ring when she could get a window?  
  
She glanced at the chair by the fire, used from so many nights to see Severus asleep there, huddled in a blanket. But the chair was pushed to the side, the blanked carefully folded on the armrest.  
  
Laurel looked around. She was alone in the bedroom. Cold fear trickled into her heart. Had Severus been summoned in the middle of the night and hadn't found the time to wake her? They didn't even know if he could resist Voldemort's calls. What if he, in one of his acts of foolish bravery, had let her sleep while he had followed the summons - into certain death?  
  
She jumped in surprise when a sudden bout of cold air pushed the books and parchments from the nightstand to the floor. Her ghost-pad fell open. Stark letters appeared. From the generous handwriting she concluded that the Bloody Baron had pushed the books to the floor to get her attention.  
  
"What do you want?" she asked, as always not sure what segment of thin air she had to address when she had to talk to one of the ghosts. "I really have no time to play your games right now." She remembered all to well the day the ghostly bully had tried to strangle her because, in his opinion, she had hurt Severus.  
  
The ghost-pad slid over the floor until it came to a halt at her naked toes.  
  
"The Potions master is currently in the North wing, on the fourth floor. Third door to the right."  
  
She stared at the words. "Thank you. I … thank you, Sir."  
  
The page turned and more words appeared. "Get dressed and see to him, wench." For a heartbeat the letters froze, and then the last word was viciously erased and another one appeared. "My Lady."  
  
Laurel felt incredibly foolish, but before she left the bedroom she curtseyed to a Baron she could not see.  
  
  
  
The third room on the fourth floor had a thick oak door that had obviously been sealed and barred until lately. From the many locks Laurel concluded that more than a mere 'Alohomora' had been necessary to gain access.  
  
She pushed the door open and entered a room that was completely empty, bare of any furniture but a big standing mirror in a beautifully carved frame.  
  
Severus was sitting on the floor in front of the mirror, his legs crossed, totally engrossed in what he saw. Laurel sighed in relief. He seemed to be unhurt and well if a little pale.  
  
He had heard her enter and reached out for her without turning away from the mirror. Laurel sat down next to him and let him gather her into his arms until she was safely wrapped in his embrace.  
  
"Is this the Mirror of Erised?" she asked.  
  
Severus nodded and placed a quick kiss onto her temple. "Did they tell you what it does?"  
  
"Sort of. It shows us what we desire."  
  
"The one desperate wish each of us harbours deep down in their heart. What do you see, Laurel?"  
  
She cleared her throat. "I see the hill at the lake. The tree on top, it has grown. We are sitting in the shade."  
  
His hand lazily stroked her arm and she settled back against his body with a sigh of contentment.  
  
"You have your head in my lap, your eyes closed, and I read to you." She squinted. "It is …"  
  
"Of Dragonblood and its Use in Multiplying Potions."  
  
"No. Actually it is 'Hogwarts - A Revised History' and - wow, I seem to be the author." She chuckled. "You bravely endure it."  
  
"I suppose it's a case of 'Close your eyes and think of potions'. Don't let it go to your head."  
  
"You look happy. Grey hair becomes you, my darling."  
  
"I know you fell for my beautiful face," he laughed softly. "I like that white streak in your hair. You'll grow old lovely. The shawl becomes you as well."  
  
"The grandchildren gave it to me for our wedding anniversary." Her voice trembled. "How do you know, Severus? How do you know I am wearing a shawl?"  
  
The Potions master stayed silent for a long moment. Then brought up her hand and kissed the pulse at her wrist. Burying his face in her hair and taking in the scent of burned almonds, he whispered softly into her ear.  
  
"Because I see the same."  
  
THE END  
  
* * *  
  
Well, friends, this is it. The End.  
  
Or not.  
  
"Whole again" was the first fanfiction I ever wrote. The first story I ever wrote in English. I can hardly convey how much I enjoyed it. Not only did I learn a whole bunch of new words and phrases (- my English teacher is pleased) - it also was so much fun to spin a yarn chapter after chapter. And to write for an audience! Thank you all so much for your reviews and e- mails!  
  
I had never planed this to continue longer than five or six chapters, but now I just can't stop - although I should probably go and get one of those lives everybody keeps telling me about.  
  
I kind of fell in love with my characters, not just Snape (sigh …) but also Laurel and Sirius and Remus and of course Serene. So I decided to start another story - about Sirius ("Whole again - Sirius") and get the poor guy a family of his own besides Harry. And I'll let all the others appear in it as well. Just as Dumbledore said - neither of them can stand alone. And then, if I still have words and breath left, I'll bring Serene and Remus together ("Whole again - Remus").  
  
Whatever happens on the way there - I do believe in Happy Endings. 


End file.
